******This is the second version of Inara Laughs(2)-Gloomy?. I got bored and decided to post it. Let me know what ya'll think. Do you like this version better???? I have no idea how I feel about it*********

~The world is in your hands or it's at your throat~

She stared bleakly into the open space. There was nothing to look at, nothing worth her gaze. She kept her eyes open despite the fact; it would have looked strange if she sat with them closed merely because there was nothing of interest keeping them open. It seemed she was the only one who noticed how mediocre everything was. There was a definite lack of spice in her life, and every day it was getting harder and harder to find something worth keeping her eyes open. Even River, in her most entertaining moments, was just another person she lived her excitement through, none to claim her own. Her thoughts bored her, insignificant. Why was everything so irrelevant? There had always been a longing for a substantial change, a yearning for the better, the new, the amazing. But people always proved to be a simple distraction, something to bide her time until she knew them. Then all their fancy quirks became merely a show to hide insecurities like one hides embarrassment with jokes. No one was as special as they pretended to be. And she hated the fact she knew. Once the sparkles of a new friend wore off they were nothing more than every other person she’d ever met: ordinary and afraid. It could be the fact that her welcome was overstayed, she was now bored of the people she came to trust, to love. The place she called home, once brimming with possibility now bland and old with memories. Clogging up valuable promises of the new. She had had commitments before, but got around them. Malcolm Reynolds would prove to be a barrier she was unsure of how to attack. To break down. They would not understand the itching of her soul, the numbness of her senses. It wanted to be cleansed the only way she knew how, to start over. She could feel the comfort crushing down on her, she needed out, she longed for it so badly that at night all she could do was stare at the darkened ceiling waiting for morning to come. She wasn’t sure how to feel anymore, her edges were fading away. Her emotions felt futile. She had always seen things so differently from everyone else, felt things in a detached state first considering everyone else’s reactions over her own and now this disconnected feeling was overwhelming. She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t- couldn’t stay. She would hurt them, the way she did everyone slowly at first to ease them away from herself. It was easier to leave once she became the stranger in the shuttle.