an excerpt from a letter i can't finish
What a starry eyed mess you are. Your feelings run so deep through your blood and to your heart that you don’t know where to put them anymore. You’re so fond of dandelions and weeds but honey, weeds are weeds, and they are sinuous, crafty; they snake around the things that you’re trying to grow and they’re going to strangle your tree lungs if you don’t find a way to control them. Spoiler alert: weeds will overtake you in the future, and you’re never really going to learn how to control them. Instead you’ll just break out the weed killer because that’s easier than tending to a garden of tumultuous emotions. You’ll begin to fear the things inside you, the weeds that grow through your eyes and your mouth and spill through your gaps,
and you'll stand guard over your plants day and night, relentless, restless.
You’ll be terribly sleep deprived.
You’ll claw at your eyes and your heart to get those weeds out of your soil. But t