her mind is boggled, from time to time. she can't ever really get a sense of reality. the only time she can is when her fingers skim across the dust on her book shelf, or the ballet bar that she's stretching upon. whether it be the music playing in her ears, blocking out everything or a soft sweater that wraps her into relaxation, it's usually the natural comfort sensory that pulls her back into the midst of realism. sometimes she's put on the edge when the daily train goes by her house, honking loudly and her tiny fingers irk to clasp over her ears. any loud noise cause a whirring in her brain that tells her to run or curl up in a little ball. and oh, how she hates the feeling of the overwhelming noises in the world. how she just wants to be neutral and okay like everyone else. she wished that she could block out the high-pitched noise and get rid of her blurry vision that happens. she's simply tired.