A Lack of Perspicacity

When I write, the usual result is:

This happened.

If I'm lazy:

This happened loquaciously.

If I'm lucky:

This happened verbaciously.

But if I want depth?

This happened, but it indicates a lot of other things may or may not have happened too.

The example alone is too direct to even serve its purpose.

Spurs of inspiration may result in:

Why did this happen?

or

All these things indicate this happened.

But rarely do I consciously, successfully write beyond the basic relation of the core event:

This happened.

Even when I dress it up in clever adjectives and adverbs.

My grasp of language is limited by how my own thoughts perceive the world and organize it into words, in a face-value default.

Yet under the surface, I know:

This happening affects people in different ways.

Love makes crazy things happen.

Time doesn't always happen in order.

Not all happens as it seems.

And those are the spaces in the bars of my creative prison. I can see them, can even reach toward them. But I'm stuck.