In some cases, she swore that it would get easier. For what it’s worth, her friends did not see the struggle that she was, and still is, trying to hide. Many years ago, there was someone that could see through her, see all the angles and the layers.
A mouth, two knees, hair.
She started to be embarrassed and overwhelmed with the fact that someone else might have a clearer understanding of the internal workings that she has been trying to discover and untangle herself. She felt betrayed, cheated. “How could this have happened to me?”, she asked while feeling that cold breeze all throughout her body.
A nail, two index fingers, water.
The most terrifying aspect of it was the calmness that came with the assessment. Piercing though the noises of her thoughts, everything seemed clear. And while she did not fully accept all attributions fully, she knew that the knowledge behind it was preceded by and endless steam of thoughts.
A heart, two kidneys, hormones.
She calmed herself with the thought that the assessment process might take up more stress, horror and sleepless nights than to endure the verdicts that were passed onto her every day. It might be that an inclination to observe and judge is deeply rooted in insecurity and the overwhelming feelings that surround the juror. Maybe she is just calming herself down. Who knows.
A human. A fridge. Desire.