the maximum softness capable of being exerted by all machinery is so deliciously painful. what if someone built you to be a gun and then hated you for it? what happens when you, the one not masked to amuse or comfort or put at ease, show through, and prove yourself right in such an awful way? vindictive, vindication. you know they hate you, but no one says it, and that's worse. the fake woman, the dangerous woman, the not-a-woman-at-all thing. you're so attuned, you can see what people are not saying. thank you.