On Being the Wolf
So Nesta had become the wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her, too. page 60 of A Court of Silver Flame
This right here, though. When I read this line, I knew I wasn’t truly a Feyre archetype, I was Nesta. I was so angry at my life and how it changed so drastically, so quickly, that I felt like I had to be on the attack. I couldn’t trust anyone, I couldn’t afford kindness, I couldn’t afford to spend my time on anyone else, let alone myself, because they would all leave when I needed them the most, because I hadn’t deemed myself important and neither had they. Trauma. This is a trauma response, and one I know too well.
When I look back on my life, I see anger as a huge cornerstone in my emotional foundations. I was raised in an angry household, and so anger became how I responded to everything that ever went awry; every little frustration was just another burnt part of the short fuse I had, and it took nothing much to set me off. I look back on my adolescence and can relate to the hunger, to the anger, to the cruelty of harsh words said at the right time.
I am a Nesta.
And so I fight like her too.
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