When we first met, you asked me if I was a good person.
I said yes.
You looked at me, nodded, and believed it.
Later I asked you why you believed me.
You said it was because you were sick.
Later you said that you have always been quite sick.
I wanted to be your medicine, but I found that your heart was full of knives, and you couldn't even find a gap to sprinkle medicine.
Purpose: Healing