To me softness is a compromise. You feel so deeply and so much that everything penetrates your soft shell. It means you cling to every last memory, offhand comment, look, or lack there of. Everything feels personal. And you can't help but think that you're the problem. Some days it's like you're drowning and everyone's waving back, misinterpreting your cries for help.
The soft shell feels like a burden. The older you get the more that clings to it. You feel as if there's no longer a solid boundary between your thoughts and the thoughts being imposed on you by your past traumas. It's a constant battle between you and your shell. You hate it. You despise it.
But sometimes there's these very brief instances, in which you remember, suddenly, that you can swim. Your shell bounces back. You can breathe. You allow yourself room to grow and create. To make something beautiful out of the pain.
Those brief instances of clarity are enough for me to continue. Because I know that despite everything those moments when I get to make something are special.