For what purpose was I created? Was it merely for human entertainment, or was it for something greater?

These are the questions that kept my mind busy as I stood there, day in and day out. I would stand there proudly, watching the world idly pass me by, but I couldn't help but wonder if there was some greater purpose for me out there. Once the sun would begin to set, and I was freed from my statuesque prison, my day could truly begin. I was then free to do whatever I pleased for the next several hours, be it cooking, cleaning, or reading.

My small house was carefully crafted by its maker, and it never ceased to amaze me. Even the smallest detail within it I refused to overlook. My shelves were always stocked the next day, and I never really questioned why that was. My life was near perfect, but near perfect wasn't perfect. (and yes I understand how blandly obvious that statement truly is, but I don't believe that you can comprehend how much that near perfection truly haunted me)

I often thought about things that would make my life reach that glorious perfection, and often my mind would drift to my other half. Both of us were created for the other, and yet for someone else entirely. We were made to signify the love between our maker and his betrothed, and we're seperated almost immediately after meeting. I had faLlen head over heels for her, and then was doomed to an exsistence without her by my side.

What could I have possibly done to deserve such torment?

Very few know the pain of being permanently separated from their soul mate, too many believe that they are in love, only to quickly lose any trace of those feelings for that other person. But I guess I should be thankful that I was able to experience that feeling at all.

So I was left alone, taken away from my love, and abandoned by my creator, what was I to do with my life from this point? I searched for answers in my library, I read book after book, hoping for a sign, but it's he signals were all mixed up. In one story the character sought revenge, and although he perished, he felt a sense of accomplishment in the end. In another story, the character dedicates his life to good and manages to overcome his adversity and the gnawing sense of hatred deep within himself.

Ultimately, it wasn't a story that swayed me, but merely a passage.

It said, "the act of taking from others is tantamount to evil. From the moment we are born, we continually take something from others. Life is a succession of committing sin. I am conscious of that evil."

I read that passage over and over again, trying to pick apart each line. And then I figured it out. I wanted to break that chain. I didn't want to take from other people, rather I wanted to help give something back to them, help them if I could.

But for now, I had to resume my spot in the window for morning was fast approaching.