The past is the past. You can't change it.
But, what if your mistakes in the past — everything that you did wrong — what if they were never even yours to begin with? Someone else having decided you'd make those mistakes.
Not only that, but they also controlled everything you'd do right as well.
That begged the question…
What was the point in living?
It wasn't his life to lead anymore.
It was as Diligence said: he was merely an instrument of fate.
His wants were manufactured. He hated by design. His love too.
Where did meaning lie in all of it?
What meaning could be derived from living a lie?
Vale could trick himself, make himself think he defied his fate weaving oppressors, but that would only serve their plans.
Even if he did find hope — something to grasp onto to deny their control over his life, that would merely mean that was their desire for him as well.
Futile…
Resisting fate was futile.
Because in that resistance, one merely falls further into the normative path.
