music-box

She loves being surrounded by zaniness. Where people clown around and the concrete hall was never at ease. All her acquaintance would see her as the girl with no hormonal effects. She doesn't smirk, does not pull a face, does not throw tantrums and doesn't act snobbish around anyone. The only thing she would do is maybe returning back smiles in her own favor. There is no way of telling if she's under her pre-menstrual cycle or not, simply because she was never moody. Not among her friends. The traits she left them with was the feeling synonymous to the word happy. Not necessarily calm, but she was never flipped. Never had a change to a sudden melancholic look. That though, does not make her any different. All her pain and angst and agony even were shuttered in her self-made music box, hid underneath towers of laughter and comical acts. And sometimes when she's in her room alone, She would remove the lock of the box and made it vacant. Hiding under her blankets, she would let loose of this hidden dark feelings, sometimes she accompanied them with tears and sometimes just a stray silence. Then when it's all gone, she would let down her eyelids and put the now vacant box aside. Waiting it to be filled with yet another set of dysphoria. Sometimes when the box went over-flowed, she would exhibit her feeling to a pal. Not in hope of making a settlement or covenant or anything like it, just to be consoled and to have a shoulder to lean and ponder. Then when her morose are sedated, she would just want someone to clean up the tears and mend the bits of her that's left. But even if she fails to do so, she would always just go back to her friends with her normal behavior-the giddy girl people recognize her to be.