Fifteen thousand reasons humans do not like dragons.
I can't stand being alone! Perhaps they are right, seeing through my oh-so tough exterior to the "good" that lurks inside. Perhaps. If so, then I need to work harder to restrain those emotions.
I have no one to care for and no one cares for me and therefore I must only care for myself. To do otherwise proves me foolish... foolish creature that I am. I must never become vulnerable, I must never trust anyone. I must never fall in love.
I must never hope. Looking forward as I have has caused me only pain; desperate for love, I would trust any face on the street, and be blind to the difference of truth or lie. Ridiculous things desperation does.
I fear that I grow old and have no mate to show for all my many futile efforts. After all, who would care for an immature, crazy dragoness? So childlike...every time I try to be serious, everyone ignores my histrionics like a boy shepherd crying "wolf!" Hasn't anyone paid attention?
I cry, and no one comforts me. Depression swallows me whole, and no one cares if I dodge its caving teeth or be spat out to continue. I have only my own worlds, and am alone in them at that. I am out of place here. I am out of place everywhere.
Is there a point to my existence? Surely there is not, for I haven't an inkling as to what it is yet, though I pretend, for the sake of my twenty-one years. To stop having fun--perhaps that would light my way? Ah, but that--that one small thing--would strike me dead where I stand.
Which would not be so bad, except for this painful, lingering hope for something I know could be better. Do I try too hard, or not hard enough... am I just...? How can I aspire to be someone who is not me?
Ah, to be a tortured lover! Bonds and chains on such a free heart, and the knowledge that soon they will be unlocked and cast away in this twisted game of slave and master. Ah, to be dominated, held down and taunted by a lover's shaft at my entry... there are some things even a dragon cannot accomplish alone.