She has an innocent face. People respond to this face, which is pretty but not beautiful. There is an openness, a sincerity, an honesty in her face. A sensuality, too. She can hide behind this face, can smile and think impatient, unkind thoughts.
She feels contempt for people who are not as strong as she. She has no patience for the emotionally weak or the intellectually crippled. The alcoholics, the self-help-book readers, the peanut-allergy sufferers. The anxious and the depressed. She is a gazelle, lithe and powerful, and they are the weak members of the herd who will be consumed by their disorders and neuroses. She is the lion who will consume them.
She has an intimate understanding of blood, its colours and viscosities. She is the moon, cold and barren. She is the huntress, reckless and violent. She is the victim, but never for long.
She is the mother. She soothes and nurtures, caresses and calms. She offers her hand and accepts the burden as her own. She is devoid of ego and endlessly patient. She understands suffering because she herself has suffered.
She sees into your sadness, sees the damage, the moments that have contributed to who you are and why you say and do the things you say and do. She will tell you that you are good and kind and loved. She will help you if you let her.