I can't seem to translate my thoughts into words;
when I try, all that comes out is twisted cognitive wreckage.

I have the spark of inspiration at times,
but that spark does a rain-dance
and the whole ******* world comes raining down;
not an ember is to be found.

Perhaps I am undeserving;
perhaps it is not yet time.
Perhaps my skills require honing,
perhaps none of the above.

I wish I could express the gaping chasm of joy I feel, and it is no one else's fault.
I wish I felt at least adequate in my own body and life,
but whenever I try to express it, I just seem to get "well, woe is me too!"

There is no blame.