I felt like one who wants to trap and cage a little bird, and after years of waiting and luring and baiting finds that she must do no more than hold out her hand, and the finch lands on her finger and does not fly. You scarcely dare to move. It rests on your hand whole and free, foolishly trusting and infinitely courageous. It will never be more beautiful.

It is so hard trying to say what you mean.

There’s glory and honour in being chosen. But not much room for free will

A part of me will always be unflyable, stuck in the climb.

Don't know how I kept going. You just do. You have to, so you do.

God knows what I thought! Your brain does amazing acrobatics when it doesn't want to believe something.

I tend not to attempt to describe pain. I don't feel I can comprehend or re-create the personal suffering of others, so I simply try to tell what happened, or what I imagine happened. I also think it helps to let the reader fill in a lot of the blanks. Melodrama is patronizing. With a straightforward statement, readers can figure out for themselves what's going on.