Each recurring morning, as i journey towards the prison shackled by books, i pass something full of wonder and mystery. My conscience warns me off yet my heart yearns for what's inexplicably concealed behind those forbidden gates. Although the thought of being trapped in a foundation filled with mindless teenagers, who ignore my very existence, is seemingly very enticing, with slight hesitation i gather myself through the jaws of the unknown.

The volume of my conscience increases. It's grieving, but what for? The bewailing cries of the lost ones? Begging me for my help? Tortured screams resonate through my brain, thwacking against my skull like a hammer. I feel inclined to leave but an unusually peculiar sensation draws me in, almost as if it was wrestling with my heart strings. Contemplating my next move, i suddenly experienced an understanding of anagnorisis as i recaptured the existential extent to just how many unfavourable situations my deceitful intellect had bestowed upon me, post-present. Unfortunately for me, it was...