She could only see her makings in black when she compared herself to other people. Reading other peoples golden threads only made it worse – it made the bad feeling show up – appear to the surface and bite her in her lungs so that she couldn`t breathe as clear anymore. The dark feeling of hate surrounded her, she just wanted to sink down to the soil, to what felt more like a home to her than anything else. When the feeling of hope disappeared – always just for longer or shorter moments – she knew that the only thing she could do was to go inside herself, to her safe haven, looking at walls which weren`t there, and smiling of voices she knew wasn`t real. Her fear for being crazy was a light one, at least she knew what was real or not – her only wish was that it was all kind of opposite.