Matthias loathed the puppets. The dolls. The marionettes. He hated them all despite being talented in his craft of puppeteering at a young age, but it wasn't a choice really. The Czernin family was known for its remarkable puppet shows and general theatre skills to where that's all they chose to embrace and to prepare their children for. But even though the art itself wasn't horrid or anything, Matthias felt like the puppets took the love and affection he needed from his parents away, as that's all they seemed interested in. Look how fluid you've made it dance! Look how you've made it talk. Look at how you've made it walk. Look at it but never look at how you've aced this exam or how you've managed to pull yourself out of bed despite it meaning nothing. Matthias felt like the real puppet here, and that's only another reason to hate them on top of many other things that made his life in short, miserable. But would he stop and whine about how everything was unfair? No, that would just make him more worthless, wouldn't it? He simply kept moving forward at the pace he could and did what he was able to. For the sake of satisfaction for the audience that was his peers, parents, and everyone who laid their gaze on him. Not like they'd care, but he felt it was better to be overlooked and forgotten for being too unnoticeable rather than to be eyed and ridiculed for doing something wrong. And so, there would be a routine. Wake up, go to school, go through class, eat lunch alone, back to class, go home, go practice with the puppets, go to bed and repeat. Simple yet tolling on his mind, it was. But would he change it? Probably not. The only thing he could really do for his entertainment was use his imagination, but even that grew repetitive and dull. He sighed deeply at this realization, cheek going to his propped up palm as he prodded the questionable school meal on his plate, disturbed in his mind but his face didn't show the distaste. It was the same. It would always be the same.