How are you such a mystery when there’s nothing at all mysterious about you? You don’t hide. It’s as if there really is nothing more to you than what you let on. Are you really mysterious? But that’s precisely the root of the confusion: is what you’re letting on all that there is? Or is it merely a chunk of something larger, grander, lurking underneath the surface, that you make people believe isn’t there? If that were so, why do you? Is it to appear to be less than what you really are, to be unassuming, to be spared from the eagle eyes of predators and parasites?

So the mystery lies in the mystery, huh. That’s probably why I didn’t like you very much from the get-go: you’re so mysterious it’s bordering on pretentious. It may reel people in at first, but it loses its novelty eventually and ends up irritating those very people that’s been conned into thinking you’re the real thing. But who knows, maybe you are. I’ve only recently decided that I don’t care enough to even try to find out, however, so good luck on whatever it is you’re trying to achieve.

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