imagine a girl or a boy

So imagine a girl or a boy. And they're feeling just a little bit bleak. Here's the start of their monologue. The style is vaguley Woolf-inspired, but also reflective of some other books I have read lately, including The Gathering, by Anne Enright, and The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold. The feeling behind it and throughout it is derived from any number of things, not necessarily personal. Here -

If you were to come near me I might be awkward or shy away, afraid you might hurt me, or I might stand rigid and cold, determined you won’t hurt me. I might do both. I might be both. I might not know you. I might even love you. Anything could happen. Anything goes.

I might be bitter and sad. I might be polite and laugh softly, be amiable and all. But still, I might just wish not to be alone anymore. In which case, I might ask you to leave. When you’re sitting there, in that chair, in that pose, with that face, and those hands, no one else can sit down. No one else can taste my hommus, served in a small glass bowl – you can see right through it. I made it myself, did you know? You didn’t ask. You might tell me how good it is if you knew. I might smile and say thank-you, offer you some more, pour you a glass. I might tip it over your head. But I don’t like to clean. Imagine it stuck in your hair. What a mess.