"Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change."
Sometimes I feel like Tinkerbell. Not the blonde bimbette Disney version, but the one from the original Barrie mythos: the Tink who, in her all-consuming jealousy, lured Wendy to her near death. An emotion can take over me all at once, consume me, and then, quick as a flash, be gone and completely replaced by another. I've learned how to regulate it much better than when I was a kid and an adolescent, but sometimes, sometimes I still manage to find myself covered in fairy dust.
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