There was always something about him that they didn't understand. How he moves about - alone - without any worries if he was good enough; since the society these days worries about image and image alone. He, however, never seems to be captivated by such pressure. He walks about town just as any peasant, but seldom does he stop to look at himself in the mirror.

But little did anybody know that he worried - a whole lot - about himself. Not just his image, but who he really is.

Simply said, he was just insecure and was searching - who he was.

Not who he is or who he will be.