"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter-- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." (Ibid.)
I want to sleep, but I can't. I want to write, but the words won't come. I want to paint, but I haven't the time. I want to run away, but I can't find the proper excuse. I want to finish a novel, but I can't concentrate. I want to read the end of my story, but I can't find the right book. I want to know everything will be alright, but life doesn't provide that reassurance. I want to be saner. I want to be kinder. I want to know my heart is safe. I want so many things, but they all seem just out of reach.