In the fabricated nicety rampant throughout town, she was different. Keeping it all real was like trying to coax an unleashed tiger back into its cage – a hopeless, disconcerting task that would bite if failed. “Hell, I don’t get how this is even a psychological disorder. Are these people insane? Why me?” she mumble inaudibly to herself and the white walls that surrounded her, hands tugging at the locks that held her wrists loosely.
Clearly, this was a world she fathomed could only be thought by idiots. Why would everyone act all nice, only to blabber begrudgingly once their backs were turned? Being uncompromisingly forthright was a taboo here, and it was as if it was Christmas all year round, what with velvet lights strewn all over town. There was obviously so much more than what it appeared at the seams. Was genuinity so last century?