The world spins around her like a windstorm, roaring every fear she should have... spinning lies about who she should be and weaving a spell of doubts in her about who she is. It is constant, unrelenting, and uncaring. From the stares to the cries to the demands of this world, it all clamors, trumpets playing their terrible tune. But, she remains unmoved. She has lived enough to know that it is all a shallow threat, a bully's war cry. She knows she is enough and has little patience left to explain it again.