She had to admit it: she was scared. Of everything that was new
and unfamiliar. Of all the things she had absolutely no control over.
She felt small and weak and unimportant, a tiny, barely visible
drop in the ocean of life. Afraid of being judged, mistrustful even
of her own ability to stay afloat. She was sliding on a downward spiral, with no idea what was waiting for her at the base, only
that there was no turning back.

Perhaps it was for the best, sometimes it's easier when you're not given much choice; freedom's burden can be unbearable. Or maybe she really was free to do whatever she wanted, but preferred
instead to act as if her course was predetermined; persistently hiding her head in the ground like an ostrich, while innocently weeping for her lack of alternatives.