You throw off light by the armful, then feel stung that all that shine never hands you back any substance. The Sun squares Jupiter, the big open generosity working against the self that needs to be fed. Give it all away and you empty out. Hold it back and you call yourself arrogant. For years it left you dazzling in public and brittle in private, with no idea how to make the two the same person. What the friction taught was a quiet measurement: do not pour out more light than your body can make that week. Radiance has to be sustainable. The version of you that shines without burning down grew straight out of that strain.