Within her emotions collided. Her fear clashed with her ambition, with her will to live, with her dreams and goals. Her depression crashed into her joy, into her hope. And now she is scared. What if her fear wins? “What will become of me then? My God, what will become of me then?” But nothing has been decided yet, the struggle is still going on. There seems to be no end to the insecurity of not knowing what she will feel next. Each moment can bring her either happiness or panic, fear or peace, hopelessness or joy. She feels each new moment brings the possibility of her falling apart permanently. Maybe that’s what she feels most of all, weakness. A lack of power, a lack of control, a lack of strength. You seem pretty damn strong to me, stranger.