You've always reminded me of a forest.
Not because of your chestnut hair.
Not because of the branches of your fingers.
Not because of the roots that show on the tops of your hands.
But because of the way I can never understand you.
Sometimes, I think I do.
Sometimes I feel that I've laid my path of bread down behind me.
Sometimes I think I know the way out.
But then the birds of your being devour my pathway.
They come and they go and they leave me all alone.
Lost.
And then I'm stuck.
I don't know where I am.
All alone.
But then I remember.
I am lost in the forest of you, and you can't help, because trees can't talk, to me.
And that's the thing.
You've never really spoken to me about anything.
I remember once you told me that you wanted to cut your roots and leave.
That you weren't needed here.
That you wouldn't be remembered.
I told you that was a lie to befit Tony Abbott. You didn't believe me.
Do you believe me now?
Do you believe me when I say that your being here has planted seeds in my heart on soil I thought was barren?
Do you believe me when I say that the way you make -feel- has sprouted blossoms in the corners of my mind where the sun has never shone?
Do you believe me when I say that your absence would start the logging of my soul, cutting down what I thought was impenetrable?
You're stubborn. You're confusing. But you're solid. You don't let anything through your walls. And that's why you've always reminded me of a forest.
this one, my friends, was inspired by one of the most confusing, stubborn and wonderful people that I have ever met