Ideals
yet was clueless about how to be that person.
Her capabilities were unseen to herself, buried in the consistency of self-criticism and personal judgement which plagued her worried little mind.
Yet she had worlds inside her. . .
She was made up of stardust, and formed by the energy of all that lies within and beyond this Universe. . .
She was the Universe.
But she never knew how special that was.
And always feared she may never find a way to share it with the world.
She battled over whether or not she even should.
She knew the world could be cruel and harsh and unreceptive to what is truly important in life. To the things which her inner world taught her to be truths.
And so, she kept herself locked away.
Sparingly hinting at her ideals and ideas in times when she felt either someone was wholehearedly and receptively listening, or when she knew her words would undoubtedly fall on deaf ears.
She tried to be careful.
But the world had a way of deceiving her time and time again.
