He grew up in the darkest side of the room. Very cold and dark: the kind of coldness that numbs to the bone but does not still breathe. He was never made to know the world outside. The dark room was his world and this world was him.
As time went on, he learnt that if he could open the little and only window to the room, a little light, a little brightness or perhaps a little heat from the sun can bring a change to this cold room he is used to. Although terrified about this idea, he wanted the change. He needed it so badly.
So at the time the watchers were asleep, he gathered all the courage left within him and opened the window. The light, the brightness was so encouraging. The world outside the dark room was much better. He decided he was going to go through the door and make an exit into the brighter world. With the help of his favourite watcher, he carved his own key which can open the door. He then ventured into the brighter world. Confusing as this world seems, it better than the cold dark room. But he still kept the key to that room because part of him was in that room and part of that room was in him.
He knew he had to let go off the key but most of his memories were there. So he lived on the edge knowing very well that with just a little spark, he has to run back to the dark room, where he can find his weakness, work on them and come out stronger than before.