Everyone will tell you how nice and even tempered Ellen is. They will recount situations where persons were screaming at her, and she remained calm. They will describe events where everyone, but Ellen was in a panic.
People will tell you how Ellen is always polite, says the right thing.
None of them know that Ellen lives on the border of contempt and indifference.
She sees the majority of those around her as if they were noisy birds in a near by tree. She wouldn’t be provoked by noisy birds any more than noisy neighbors.
To Ellen, most people are what you would wipe off a shoe. Most people, to her eyes don’t know better, can’t do better. To Ellen, she could be watching pigs roll in a sty.
She doesn’t panic because she doesn’t care. As long as it is not her it doesn’t matter.
She lives in a closet of her soul in which people around her as phantoms.