Sometimes I have one of those quaint realizations: isn’t it strange that I should be this much affected by the feelings? They don’t make any sense. I know the situation isn’t that devastating if I look at it from this certain point of view. Everything would simply be fine I would just ignore the dark feelings. The answer is clear to Vesta, but no one listens to her, not even her own colleagues.
Her voice is unheard and ignored by all. Should she be a leader, but she’s incapable of making any difference. It requires a lot of effort before I can just silence everything and create a sense of discipline again. It takes a lot of effort for me to get into the writing that makes me more reasonable and can dampen a little of the hunger I feel.
But while I am finding myself under control right now and I’m recharging my Alpha bar and I start being confident there’s no reason to get into a turmoil with my very first step outside, soon it all engulfs me. I try dodging these evil particles, but when one strikes me, others get in very easily, and there you have the emotional explosion again.
It requires a certain experience for me to make an elegant dance to avoid these little things hurting me, but sometimes it’s these particles just shower on me and there’s no avoiding them. Plus I am feeling like I have no resilience left to be unaffected by mistakes, every single one is a powerful droplet of chaos. And that’s how powerless and frustrated Vesta feels in this war of emotions. And I identify myself with the poor woman, feeling like an isolated misfit. And me and my own creation, we give our hands to seek the same objective. We want to belong. We long to make a difference.