Moss 0: Me

What is it that prompts people to take on things that are harder than they can handle?

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The first time I entered this house, I knew I would stay here.

Is it some sort of courage? A determination to do the impossible?

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The walls are half-missing. Air flows in. It is cold and ruined.

Or is it hubris? A belief that you can somehow succeed where no one else can? That you can make something great, something world-shaking, out of rubble?

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Only the bathroom is intact, and that barely. Everything is overgrown.

Or is it just the knowledge that you’ll never do anything else? A desire to leave a mark, even one that gets easily erased?

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The pool looks filthy, but there are plants, so at least it’s not toxic. I still wouldn’t swim in it.

Maybe it’s something in all of us, something human.

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I found some clothes piled on the floor. No one will miss them.

Maybe this is the only thing left.

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The only reason this is still here is because it’s too heavy to steal. It’s something.

Maybe you are running away.

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