Her-tomized

 Maybe her vocabulary was not broad enough to encompass her own definition. All she saw in mirrors were question marks. Her habitat was disorder and uncertainty. The walls of her chambers a spotless white, she's the only stain in it. Solitude is akin to prison when you're trapped in the confines of your head. An echo-chamber of all the would have could have and should have thoughts bouncing around. Company barely offers her any reprieve, all she sees in others is a reflection of all her negative traits. She bears this on her shoulders, in terror because she is almost disgusted by the quality she attracts. She's convinced it's all her. Her contempt for herself extends to those she cares about. Does she even have the capacity to care for anybody or does she care about how much they care about her.

Did she have the capacity to care? Caring for herself seemed vain but the opposite seemed like neglect. Why was she afraid of her care of herself being perceived as vain? Maybe her inability to find relevance in her own sentiments led her to rely on those of others for navigation. No direction or understanding in her own life can be attributed to her. The weight of who she is and who she could be drags her down due to the overwhelming responsibility of acting upon it to see it come to fruition