There is an ocean inside of me, storming with anger and a lust for revenge.
I've never been the angry kind, not the kind of girl who raises her voice or lashes out infront of people. My mother tought me to keep feelings prisoners locked inside and never let them see the light of day, never show anything. A neutral face is a beautiful face she said.
and beauty is what keeps us alive, isn't it? So therefor I follow her example, I keep the storm inside and never let anyone know that all I really want to do, all I long for is to scream from the top of my lungs. To call the girl who passes me on the street a whore, to give the man who rolled of me a black eye. That's what my heart desires. But we all know I never will. She is her mothers daughet my teachers used to whisper when I gave them the silent treatment eight years old, like a stubburn old lady. Maybe I am. But I chose my father figure. I chose him.