Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.”
Have you ever felt a potential love for someone?
Like, you don’t actually love them and you know you don’t, but you know you could. You realise that you could easily fall in love with them. It’s almost like the bud of a flower, ready to blossom but it’s just not quite there yet. And you like them a lot, you really do. You think about them often, but you don’t love them. You could, though. You know you could.
That night I lost you, I lost something inside me. Or perhaps several things. Something central to my existence, the very support for who I am as a person.
I couldn’t live where there were no trees — something vital in me would starve.