Savage, proactive, impolite.
Loud, impulsive, exploding.
Unfair, spontaneous, fast.
Bold, big, shouting.
Throwing stones into glass windows.
More anger, rage, discontent.
Rivals, riots, bloody screaming voices.
All inside her, all at once, when she is calm and nurturing and nice. Need to be nice to everyone or they’d exclude her, very fast. She will be hurt, and crying, on the floor. And hate herself for making it all happen, again. A total emotional mess of hair that sticks together on her head, as if she’s finally agreed to color it correctly. Why can’t she just be nice, and kind, and patient. With other people annd their stupidity, inactivity, and blatant boring appearance. No style, no taste, no ambitions. No brain. Or too much brain. And lots of manipulative power, to throw her off the cliff whenever possible. Be happy – they say. And she adjusts. To any little movement made by those whom she respects, and those who have given her a little bit of their attention. And this is the very moment when she finally, eventually, to her surprising relief, experiences the calm and confidence she is addicted to so deep inside.