She had always been a sensitive person, and when people mistreated her, which happened often, it felt as if she was being torn apart, crushed, and that she became nothing. The fragile tendrils attempting to reach out for sunlight, her desires for affection, respect, and connection with her fellow humans, were constantly thwarted. People made fun of her for who she was, judged her and found her lacking, used her and exploited her, and rejected her when she developed a longing for someone. So, as she grew into an adult after a lifetime of this, having it constantly drilled into her head that there was something wrong with her and that she did not deserve what she wanted and needed most of all, she slowly built a shell to hide inside. To keep the world, and life itself, from touching her. It was a hard shell, she blocked the vulnerability that she had been taught to fear. For a time, it felt like a solution. She felt secure in there, calm and impenetrable, not hurtable.
But before long this security turned to oppression, she felt disconnected from the only thing that made her feel alive, that she desired most of all, because deep down she felt that it wasn’t safe to want it. She felt buried alive, and her obsession became obtaining freedom, at any cost.
All she wanted any more was for the shell to break, to shatter, to be rescued and truly touched, Inside, again.