[Oh, so this where it was going. She had hoped it wouldn't--though perhaps should have expected it. It's not something that she can run away from, though. And running away is not something she likes to do any more. She sets the journal aside but leaves it open, staring at her room.]

[When she speaks, it's softly because it hurts a little. It's a little frightening-- but...]
You can ask me not to be mad but I am. It's not even something I understand. It's just inside of me. [She places a hand to her sternum]

It shouldn't be there and it isn't fair--but it is. I don't know what it is. I can't even define it. I'm sorry it's not an answer you want.