Mostly, I so enjoyed the writing, to such an extent I wonder if you are not really writing about the writing, and if this is not a putting aside (for the nonce) of the “starveling”, the writer defined by an (begging your pardon, truly) internalised external view.
But I seem impelled to tell you, though this is in no way really connected to what you write, that looking at the image of who you are now, I felt a powerful “gut punch” of attraction, connection. Looking at the other image, the starveling, I just automatically wanted to hide, to smile but turn aside, to fade quietly into the shadows.
For what it is worth. And thank you.