control yourself; take only what you need from it
While Annie might claim that she's become accustomed, more or less, to the way of life on Tabula Rasa, this is typically an outright lie. What she fails to understand - or simply chooses not to acknowledge - is that there's a distinct difference between acceptance and tolerance, and as it stands, she's been just barely tolerating life on the island. Naturally, there's only so long a stretch before she finally snaps; master of denial though she is, it can only run so deep, and today her capacity for blissful ignorance runs short.
She's not sure how it happened. Later, she might chalk it up to it simply being on of those days, having woken up on the wrong side of the bed and doomed to remain irritable until nightfall. All that she knows is that today, she finally had enough, the final straw presented in the form of a studded boot she stepped on while still drowsy and barefoot. Why anyone needs studded boots on a tropical island is beyond her, but that, she supposes, is typical of Britta, stubbornly fashionable even in the face of eviction from her likely disastrous apartment back home.
Rather than breathing in and out, calming herself, and approaching Britta in a calm, level-headed manner about the mess, Annie does the Annie thing and screams. Loudly. She doesn't know for how long, just that once she's started, she can't stop, suddenly channeling a steady wave of rage and frustration through strained vocal chords. Somewhere in the midst of all this fuss, she realizes there might be another more deserving target for this outburst - the island, for example - but by then she's feeling too worked up to stop.
She's not sure how it happened. Later, she might chalk it up to it simply being on of those days, having woken up on the wrong side of the bed and doomed to remain irritable until nightfall. All that she knows is that today, she finally had enough, the final straw presented in the form of a studded boot she stepped on while still drowsy and barefoot. Why anyone needs studded boots on a tropical island is beyond her, but that, she supposes, is typical of Britta, stubbornly fashionable even in the face of eviction from her likely disastrous apartment back home.
Rather than breathing in and out, calming herself, and approaching Britta in a calm, level-headed manner about the mess, Annie does the Annie thing and screams. Loudly. She doesn't know for how long, just that once she's started, she can't stop, suddenly channeling a steady wave of rage and frustration through strained vocal chords. Somewhere in the midst of all this fuss, she realizes there might be another more deserving target for this outburst - the island, for example - but by then she's feeling too worked up to stop.