Millie was lying to herself when she thought that didn't really care about anything she cared about. She was angry and she needed an outlet and she threw herself into something that gave her a purpose, and it overtook her because the world had so much that she needed to fix. The alternative was being scared. The alternative was being a frog in the boiling pot of her own frustration and pain and inability to fix things. It wasn't like she hated herself or anything, not really, but there is so much room for hatred in these parts. Like, the planet earth. Mother nature. Gaea. You know.
. So, somewhere between searching for a vehicle and giving up, she sort of felt freed. Because she didn't have the burden or the responsibility to fight against climate change and rape and femicide and the patriarchy and the building oceans and the failing economy and the pit in her own stomach that tried to swaller her whole like that ringed snake. To right the world's wrongs. If she was going to be put into the ground, it really didn't fucking matter which shithead politician is on what platform. She was a bit of an animal now, this way. A dumb instinct-driven thing that didn't need to do any particular thing except survival. And it was freeing! It wasn't fun, god no, she wasn't happy. she wasn't happy one fucking bit. But she was somehow less afraid than she was before. It wasn't as if she said, "I could get used to this," or anything, but there is no point in rage and in pain and in being anything more than she had to be!
Right so she was being a little delusional as well.