She desperately desired to recover some semblance of pleasurable times in her life.
She saw the window that opened up before her, but using windows like this – which simply presented themselves in her life – had previously led to a terrifying knockback: like pretty evil spirit in single shot glass.
And she realised now the problem to hand: if change means exchanging pleasure for pain, but the nature of such change means it’s you that gets the pleasure and the pain you just go and cause another, this ain’t finally a pursuit of rightful and just freedoms … far more a sado-masochism of the tawdriest games of emotional play.
And it wasn’t that she didn’t want pleasure: oh no! She wanted it more than anything right now. But pleasure which inevitably tinged the pain of another would never ever be pleasure again.
The exchange of anything would – for her, at least! – never be possible if the joy she was to feel was to be based on the misery of those people she knew.
And how could anyone enjoy such a life where its foundations were to be built – high and proud – on such a hurt?