I walked today; at least as much as one in my state can feign walking. I had before seen a skeith, young and trusting, emotionally torn apart as his fifth owner left him in the pound. His very existence was to serve whim and greed and to be a slave to braggarts. Again I saw him, in the dark and binding outpost of society, of life. He was told the truth of his creation, the truth behind his purpose, and his futalistic dreams were shattered, along with his soul. He drifts here now, much as I do, unable to fathom himself or his own existence. The truth shall set you free. I suppose it has.
There is the age old story of a mother, forced to choose between her offspring a survivor and a victim. The choosen child was murdered and the condemned saved, to grow up with the knowledge that his mother hand forsaken him. Choice does not impower, it destroys. Responsibility is the root of all anguish and knowledge the start of all pain.
Life then, existing in a world which praises both truth and choice, knoweldge and responsibility, exists only to further the suffering of it's inhabitants. In the act of truely living then, your soul truely dies.