Guardians suffer with severe depression. They do nothing but bring death whenever they meet anything else in the frontier that isn't human or other guardians. To be bearers of light and to bring such darkness is a contradiction. In the crucible we kill our own friends for training, [i]for sport.[/i] Who does that? Who kills their friends for... [i]for [b]fun?![/b][/i] Unable to coup we fell silent, we are emotionally [i]broken[/i]. Our last words were perfect... "Do you think you can kill a god?" "I don't think I have a choice." It dawns on you as you say it, you don't have a choice, you have to kill. That is all you are, a killer. Not some hero of an age, not some savior of humanity, nor a avenger of the city, but a killer. A killer that can't kill himself, hell you tried, your friends have tried. Jumping off the tower in the city and cliffs in the wild. To free yourself from the neverending violence of murder, only to have you pulled back moments later by your ghost. You lay there contemplating on your very existance. Your very purpose, a reason why you have no choice but to pick yourself up, raise your weapon, and pull the trigger. Why do we only kill? Does it have to do something with what happened before you were risen by your ghost? Some atrocity in your past life that now you have to pay dues by bring death wherever you go? If only you could remember, but there is nothing there. You reach for memories through thick fog of your mind only to grasp at nothing. These questions swirl around your head but are never answered. These thoughts are never silent and you can't focus on anything else, you don't sleep, eat, drink, or shit. You thought the vex were terrible, the horrors hive kings have rot, even the unnatural rise cybornetic fallen, they all pale in comparision to your own thoughts, to your own actions. They are your worst enemy, and those you can't kill, and killing is all you know. So I jump off the tower yet again just for one more moment of silence.