I think I am melodramatic. (Or can anyone be melodramatic when it comes to feelings? After all, you feel what you feel. Should the mind ever try to rein in the intensity of the heart--with all its foolishness?)
After an exchange, I am reverted back to the familiar scene painted by Amy Tan, the daughter putting up her castle of defenses, only to realize her perceived opponent is waiting outside, weapons nowhere in sight.
What are the shields for then? These defenses one puts up around themselves. Whether it be their own achievements or relationships with others, is it a product of external forces or of one's own folly?
It's an odd tactic, trying to escape outside myself.
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