When outwardly too full of misery, salt, and bitterness to let the light within shine. Feels like there's too much inside that never makes it out... Thoughts, ideas, passions, desires, needs. Never maturing, never making it to a state of completion without being shredded shredded against the jagged edges. What little that does surface is diffuse, muttered, unintelligible. But anyone that does see it and is warmed by it... It's like I wish you could see and appreciate all of it. That I could be everything that I should be. That I could want to be. That you need me to be in whatever capacity.
I don't feel the warmth anymore though. I don't feel the joy as much any more. It's so hard to behave as though I'm still in here.
I don't know how to correct it. How to fix the cracks. Where to find a solvent for decades of greasy buildup. Or how to behave in a way that acknowledges it.