As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt,
a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply,
shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn’t give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way.
If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me,
that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I’m always up against a more powerful enemy.
A voice within me is sobbing, “You see, that’s what’s become of you.
You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people, who dislike you,
and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.”
Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious,
everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke,
and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives,
feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood,
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