You’re complicated and layered like an onion. The more I learn about you, peeling away each layer, the more you make me cry. No, that’s not right.
Okay, you’re like a raw egg. A riddle wrapped in an enigma, surrounded by a mystery. A little cracked, a bit runny, kind of like snot. Oh, sorry. That was wrong.
A Greek olive! You’re a bitter drupe with a heart of stone. Wait… that’s not any better.
I’ve got it. You’re like the delicate, overlapping gills of a mushroom, easily broken, yet strangely supportive.
Eh? That’s the best I got.