There are some sounds to which I fall silent and still.
The key is to appear clearly to yourself and think, "Here I am. Here's what I'm doing." And not have to shy away from either.
He makes the "both sides are wrong" copout. Yes, both sides have flaws - but for one side, it's a few typos, while for the other side it's the equivalent of ungrammatical chicken scratch handed in on toilet paper.
I'm imprisoned in the stories I tell about myself.
Rain puddling under a bench where we sit and share a bag of peanut butter cups.
Damp and tired, feet chafed, after a long walk in the park with inappropriate footwear.
Change the narratives then. Cobble together some new ones. Find out who you are after years of not listening, of treating yourself as second-rate.