[She has to stop herself from saying she's glad; even as she is now, it strikes a chord in her to find similarities between herself and someone else. She's just stopped hoping, she tells herself, that the common ground would turn to friendship.
Instead, she makes it flippant, almost enough to be a joke with that slight toss of her head.]
Then they're wise!
Or maybe there's just no point being 'better' than I am.
[Why try to become tender, or caring, or good, or 'the better man', when all that's inside her is pettiness, spite, and anger? She knows herself for what she is.]
no subject
Instead, she makes it flippant, almost enough to be a joke with that slight toss of her head.]
Then they're wise!
Or maybe there's just no point being 'better' than I am.
[Why try to become tender, or caring, or good, or 'the better man', when all that's inside her is pettiness, spite, and anger? She knows herself for what she is.]