They say that nice people are born, not bred. There are researchers who claim that tight-fisted and selfish humans might be able to blame their genes. However, a nice person might neither be born nor bred, in Lisa's case. She came into this world by a soulless, selfish creature -dear mom- and she grew up in the most toxic environment, full of jealousy, manipulation, and dejection. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she ended up being a decent, nice, self-aware person, who cared and protected fiercely those who she loved. So, she wasn't the one to accuse genes for whatever unfortitude could befall her. It was all her fault, at this point of her life at least.
Discombobulated. Dumbstruck. Forlorn. Betrayed. Dismissed. Underprivileged.
Words that described accurately her present state of mind. She laughed bitterly because of the fact she had a huge stash of synonyms for these words, which she had piled in a particular section in her brain since she was little. As years went by, the pile would become a little more sophisticated, but have the same meaning nevertheless. The one of utter loneliness. She was 44 years old, and the footages of her life film were devastatingly similar. She, trying to survive, trying to achieve something, anything, and her mother trying -and succeding- to undermine it and/or twist it in such a way as to appear her own accomplishment, if said achievement was successful. Lisa never won. She just went by, barely being able to come through the ordeal unscathed and -mostly- sane. Not always, however.
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