He'd often find himself here. During his downtime, he preferred the silence of the library to keep his thoughts together. He feared they'd fall to pieces with any external distractions. This was his time he set aside to assess the day's events and what meaning they held.
Yet, its been getting more difficult by the day to adequately do so.
After his recompletion, it was a constant struggle for Ienzo to fully grasp what it meant to feel. He found thoughts invading his brain which had no logical purpose for being there. They did nothing but distract him from his tasks. More importantly, they tended to show their faces during this time of reflection. The first line of internal monologue that came to his mind during this period of allotted isolation was:
"It's not fair."
What did fairness matter to this? Events have come and gone, what purpose would it be to state such a thing? The thought continued, accompanied with a small pain in his chest:
"I've lost 10 crucial years of development."
True, during the pinnacle years of human emotional development, he was barred from the freedom of feeling. But this is a mere fact, nothing to continue to endlessly ruminate on.
He found himself helplessly following the same trend of thought as always:
"It's hopeless."
He never understood why this left him in such a melancholy state. Was it truly hopeless? What exactly was hopeless?
Ienzo took in a sharp breath and looked out the window at the tops of the trees. Like clockwork, he would resolve this struggle with a dismissive attitude:
"I will never achieve normalcy. I must make do with what I was given."
With this, he begun to assess every emotion he experienced and every conversation he remembered throughout the day. Each memory was handled with care, slowly dissected to reveal its reason for being. Manually, he created connections from events in life to emotions they spur, as he did not possess the ability to do so automatically. Soon he found himself digressing into events which occurred outside of this 24-hour period.
He had a tremendous amount to sift through. His life had returned to a state close to that before the theft of his humanity, yet there was a thick layer of dust and grim which covered it.
It was near impossible to speak to Master Ansem without feeling the dire need to hide his face in shame for his actions. Though his mentor had told him on now countless occasions to make peace with the past, he found himself falling short.
He could not reconcile the fact he played a part in condemning his caretaker into the depths of Hell.
Even had once caught Ienzo wandering off with this guilt while reviewing reports. Somehow, he knew exactly what was on his mind.
"What we are doing now is atonement for our past grievances. Leave it be, Ienzo."
This startled him out of his thoughts. Ienzo knew this statement was intended to be comforting, but its effect was far from being so. From the standpoint of his emotions, it would have been no different if Even had slapped him across the face. Tears welled in his eyes and he not longer could move for fear of a breakdown.
Ienzo's regret was so palpable, he could taste it.
Even's attempts at any further comforting failed miserably, as Ienzo found a wall had been built around himself.
That occurrence confused Ienzo for some time. He knew Even's intentions were positive, so why did they backfire so severely?
He sighed as the recollection of this scene came to a close. He would teach himself to understand emotions, whatever it takes.
As things stand now, he thought of himself more as a psychological study than a person.