could it stem from abandonment as a child, first as a little girl waiting for the ship to come home, and later as a little girl holding flowers feeling angry for being angry?
could it possibly be that hers were the arms that held me? my nest, my safety, and let me be me, unquestioningly let me question what that meant?
could it be an undiagnosed emotional disorder, gone unmedicated?
could it be fear of losing the one that kept fear away?
was it guilt, from what? rebellion? against norms, against traditions, against boxes imposed? confusion?
who is this girl? so easily tossed by the winds? swayed by the voices in the air?
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