She invested much of her time into something that, in the end, proved to be worthless and a waste of time

She didn’t know where, but she could feel herself moving away from anything that could be beneficial towards her.

She allowed her uncertainty to grasp ahold of her.

Discouraged as she was, whenever she sought, she was disappointed with what she had found.

She feels herself becoming as idle as the worn-out people she loathes.

She doesn’t know what to believe. The external world has a way of disguising too well inner turmoil.

Is it even there?