You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
“I feel a bit like I'm having to put on some sort of” (pauses and takes a deep breath) "I need a reason to do this", (takes another deep breath) “but it's actually true. It's probably my fault, because most of this stuff I feel like makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong”. (Look at your face to study it a bit) “I had a bad childhood, I was raised in a bad town. I don't feel like I know the people that lived there because they were all so mean, I never knew my dad. I'll have to try to understand that because I don't get it” (starts talking slightly faster). “I had a lot of issues with my siblings that didn't make much sense and they left me alone and that made me feel like I wasn't doing it the right way,” (pauses for a bit having flashbacks then snaps back to reality and jumps a bit). “not with the best of intentions, but I really needed to understand how I felt. I don't have no way of understanding who I am, what I'm doing, what is going on, but I have a natural ability to understand what I do without just making life a living one. If a world is in chaos or a world is in an impossible situation just knowing that it's in a situation, I don't really think about it any more”.
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