Have I ever looked at something else that was secretly tragic, that looked just as disappointing on the outside but was so much worse in so many ways on the inside? It looks small. It’s not small in an insignificant way; it’s clear to those who see it that it’s very profound, just not in a good way. It’s small in the ways it’s demoralizing, in the ways it rips everything apart, including the appearance of its shell. That’s why it’s disappointing. I used to appear so perfect, so beautiful, so lively and full of potential, but the part of the shell covering the potential for bad things to happen has been ripped by years and years of depression. Now, those who look closely can see how far down this potential goes. It’s a scary thing to look at and even scarier a thing to ponder. What happened to the good potential? It’s shrinking and shrinking, but why?