the threads in her head

Sarcasm. Rightly defined as a cutting, often ironic remark intended to wound. And indeed it's sharp. Biting. The cold sword of which leads on and on for the gullible, the ones easily tricked and deceived. The sick feeling that one might get at first can worsen, driving straight down into your gut. Going lower and lower, slicing deep, hurting much, bleeding lots.

Upset, is perhaps the wrong word. The feelings invade the heart.

And the heart feels torn and shattered. Quiet. It is sapped of energy, after everything has been dashed.

I liken it to seeing someone on the streets. Frail and needy, he confesses he need help. Your heart goes out to him, so overwhelmed with feelings you are. At this moment, you're willing to help, to do almost anything for that person.

The next minute the person has rolled his eyes at you and go, "yea right."

Weary.

It is funny, how I'm never upset at first. I'm taking it normal, sharing my experiences. It is not the topic that 'upsets' me. It is the reaction, the mode you get into that breaks my heart.

I was never upset. I was just sad.

Quiet anguish. Unseen tears.

Grief?

Mourning.