Isn't it sad that I cannot write well? I envy those who can. It's painful when you cannot express, really; it's painful to contain when you wish to regurgitate, and it feels like impotence.
If I were gifted with the gab, maybe I could tell you exactly how it feels - to swell up with anguish or joy, hatred or love and not being able to express yourself.
I wonder how my life could have been so complacent otherwise! I needn't have to resort to small abrupt half-thougths, half-phrases and half-lines.