The gardens in me sometimes burn, and the carbon in the fumes make me choke. The cities in me flood from time to time making my eyes leak. It makes me feel so alone and so self-destructive. It makes me feel so useless.
And yet, sometimes I feel safe. And yet sometimes I feel okay. Enough to truly come out of the repressive shell that is mental illness. And sometimes I have people to thank. Sometimes it feels like I escaped by myself. But either way, I'm out and I feel so loving.
And sometimes I feel both lonely and loved. Both handsome and needing to improve. And I think that is what true love for someone is. When you feel totally comfortable with yourself, but you still want to change for both you and them. I think that's what love is. And in a very lonely way; in a very romantic and loving way, I think that's what love is.