I lowered my gaze. There’s no frustration. There’s only feeling it’s justified.
I grit my teeth to endure wanting to separate our hands and run away.
I’m weak… I wonder why I’m so depressed.
I wish I could stand their glares. The opponent is just aunties.
I’m good-for-nothing. I have such a complex. Everyone senses that such me is unattractive.
There’s not much difference from a loser. And yet I’m still a young lady?
I wonder if I shouldn’t repay the damage double the original amount.
Don’t I have pride? Am I conceited? Jeez, I’m getting angry.
I breathed in grandly. And then vigorously breathed out.
Yup, I feel a little refreshed.