Swiftcurrent Creek [m] Fallen to her knees, but you couldn't ever tell

Reverie listened, and slowly she calmed under Arric's gentle touch and his kind words. The tears began to fade, and she felt ashamed to have acted like such a child in his presence. He was being kind, but Reverie was afraid of that kindness. How long before she ruined this too?
She was learning that many people wanted to be kind. Many people wanted to help, because helping is easy at first, when it's new and rooted in the assumption that something will get better for it. And Reverie was getting better, but it was so slow that sometimes it felt like being stagnant. Eventually someone always got hurt; eventually she made her sister cry, or her brother beg, or her lover run after her in the dead of night just to keep her from leaving. Eventually someone got burned, and then helping was not such a kind and easy thing to do. Then it turned ugly and difficult, it turned into abandonment and it would always end the same — with her alone, the way she wanted, the way she feared.
What can I do? Reverie asked finally, voice wavering a little. She did not know; she wanted someone else to know, to give her the answer, any answer. Anything at all. She would do it, whatever it was; anything to fix herself, because even now all Reverie wanted was to run past the border of Swiftcurrent Creek and lose herself in the wilds and dance until she could no longer remember the names of the ones she was destined to love and to disappoint. And she knew she wasn't supposed to feel that way.