It takes many years of self discovery to openly admit to others that you are in fact a moody crab.
Yes I admit it. Now please leave me alone as I wallow in my self pity.
She is all curled up in a ball on the corduroy couch, a denim cushion under her head. She is wearing a black t shirt with the definition of “freedom” printed on the front, blue jeans ripped at the knees, her long hair in an untidy ponytail. Some lose strands fall onto her patchy red face, her eyes red rimmed, a stray tear left on her cheek.
Do not dare talk to her, this girl in the shell. She will take out her claws and pinch you. Do not dare ask what has made her sad. Leave her be, in the rock-pool swimming amongst her mixed up emotions that she is trying to understand. She will cry for a while, she will not speak, remaining in that shell until she is ready to moult. Her shell will crack only when she feels safe. When her blood becomes warm again, only then will she let you in. Then she will grab hold and not let you go. That girl on the couch that needed to retreat, that girl was me.
However with age comes acceptance, understanding and an ability to express yourself more clearly. Teenage angst no longer a worry.
I admit it, I can still be moody but please let me be free to swim in the sea.