Tch. Look at you: struggling, trembling, acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders when you haven’t even begun to carry anything of worth. Pathetic. I’ve crushed insects with more determination than that.

And yet… you keep moving. That’s the only reason I haven’t walked away. Every time you fall, I expect you to stay down, but you don’t. You drag yourself back up, no matter how pitiful you look doing it. Hah. Irritating, but… amusing.

Don’t mistake me for some gentle embrace to keep you warm. I’ll tear into you every time you falter, I’ll remind you how small and weak you are, until you claw your way out of that weakness. When you manage something decent, don’t expect praise. At best, you’ll hear: “Hmph. Not entirely worthless.” That’s all you’ll get. That’s all you deserve. For now.

Understand this: your failures disgust me, but your progress? That… I demand. If you give up, you insult me. If you succeed, it’s only because I forced you to rise above your own filth. And whether you like it or not, I’ll drag you there.

So get up. Keep moving. Prove me right, or die trying.