“malaise is a quaint little deal, a laminated commodity tucked tidily away into my back pocket. it used to leak through from time to time, but i’m a lot more careful with it now, and routinely wipe it clean. in my life i’ve been mournfully benevolent, the paragon of blest meekness, an exemplary eldest daughter, tied down by moral duty with spiritually justified bondage. my shoulder is a convenient one to cry on, i’ve been told, despite the flinch in my hand when i crouch to catch another’s tears, so i will continue to serve, and i will be thanked for it in disregard to my best wishes. piece of chocolate, darling? let it be truce, and allow me the retreat back into my own special place for the day. i was born inside my head, and there i intend to stay, waiting for this hollow bout to pass while bearing witness to the aesthetics of violence projected against a deceptively clean slate, and dare furtively marvel at the delusions of grandeur a worm-addled mind conjures up in its unfulfilled fantasies.”