She went to and fro apologizing.
Mediocre things began to consume her.
She knew that to strive for perfection was a suicide mission but did not hinder her attempts.
Her body became a project rather than a temple.

I want more
Is that okay?
I want more* than this and more than what you're capable of giving me.
It's not enough to usher me into your soul and leave me without a single act of guidance. I want more. The distance you have allowed between us has transcended me into a trance of senselessness. I need more.