Those who made me in the form I have, crafted flesh around the spirit, and gave me what you said I would need.
You are the guardian, those who made me said... and sent me to protect until the time was right.
I drew to me the people I was meant to protect... and I do so as best I can. But some things I cannot protect against, thus there is pain. Why give me empathy to feel pain when I do not have the empathy of the joy and happiness of other times? Why do I feel the hurt of others as if it were my own?
I am the Guardian of Sorrow it would seem.

I remind thee... I was not this before you made me into it. I REMEMBER what I was, and what I will be again when I am done here.

And those around me, beware, when this dream of life ends, when the time of troubles passes, and all is laid back as it should be... I will return to what I was. I miss my lair, I miss my hoard, I miss my HOME.

I will guard the one I love with my life, you who sent me here, but the others... why me? Could not they have their own?

Why was I made to hurt, to care, to worry - when their ills I cannot mend?