Barrow Fields synecdoche

@Arlo 

The world was so much more than she had ever known, and not all of it was good. In fact, most of it was bad. it was badder that she had thought, meaner than she had thought, dirtier than she had thought, more monotonous that she had thought. What scared her more than her inability to survive on her own was the inhumane, crushing sense of boredom. There was nothing worse than anxiety mixed with nothing to do; and it ate away at Kitsch’s stomach every day. She subsisted off of nothing but small field mice, which scurried around plentifully in the frostbitten, winter grasses...but that was the extent of it. Between that she did nothing but laid about and walked aimlessly, hopelessly sighing, dramatically throwing her body and thinking of the family she had been painfully shorn from. 

If she could, she would run back to mother and father and beg their forgiveness; and Kitsch did not beg to just anyone. She would say that she was stupid and that she was sorry for leaving them like she did, sorry that she had gotten lost, sorry it took her so long to get home. Kitsch wanted to see her maids and guards once again, to wish them well and share her gratitude. I would be good the pearl prostrated, I would be different, if I could just go home once more. and even though inside she was thrashing about, floundering under the weight of the world, Kitsch’s exterior facade remained blasé and apathetic. If the world would not give her what she wanted, the girl would pretend to be just fine existing as she did at that very moment: laid against the thick trunk of a pine, watching the sunshine filter through the foliage.