I want to say %#*£#%#!!
But I can’t. You think I’m a precious snowflake. I am intricate, not frail. Cold not frigid. I see more than your open mind wants to believe. Perhaps in you’re vast experience you have never encountered self control.
I have a few choice words inside that will be left unsaid. You think I am speechless, appalled perhaps. On the contrary, I’m processing. Refining your negative spew so I don’t throw up the nasty meal you just served. You’re disillusioned you have won your battle with words. I simply walk away.
I didn’t melt in your heat. Don’t consider myself too refined to be in your presence. Some things are better left unsaid.
“%#*£#%#!!,” she thought. Touché