From all martyrs, being confused is the most painful. Dispersion and lack of acknowledgment makes our way clumsy and undefined. Scars seem to block our vision, they impede us from looking at the real picture. Yet, as if all were to be foggy, we force ourselves to see the all, but the harder we try, the worse everything turns. Stress seems to ghost around us, fog seems to try to loose us in our way. No confused dreamer, no conscious warrior, no adrenaline addict will be happy until the natural confusion and anxiety disperses into nothing but content.