My mind's a garden, I don't know why. Roots cultivate into the pit of my conscious, thorny vines entangle amidst my contemplation, flowers bloom and wither while daydreams unceasingly reiterate behind my melancholy eyelids. No amount of manipulation will give me authority over these sprouting phenomenons. Lethal roots and deceiving thorns entirely drain every last bit of energy from my mind, leaving myself depleted. Empty words, crumpled friendships, and corpselike loneliness transforms my mind into soil only suitable for weeds. My thoughts used to paint a picture of pastel petals and lush greenery inside my adolescent head. A perfect balance of sunshine and rainfall kept my mind in a consistent state of picturesque. The beauty inside my naive head would radiate from my clear eyes and roll off my tongue in flawless harmony to my surroundings. Everything was in the light, everything was exposed, everything was magnificent. But something changed. I'm not certain how. Maybe with maturity the world began to appear distance with far too many secrets to reveal, maybe when I discovered how selfish and greedy this humanity is, or maybe as I began to lie awake later into the night, the darkness seeped into my mind. The lack of sunshine encouraged vines to creep throughout my once fertile conscious. It choked the flowers that gave me my perspective on life. The soil compacted with consciousness and thoughtfulness became dry, hard, lifeless. Rain ceased to touch my mind, erasing all fertility. Darkness outweighed the light and the sun vanished. My garden, once overflowing with splendor, turned to dust. I couldn't see the beauty in life or taste the majesty of the world with each breath as I once did with ease. The garden was dead for so long. Countless hours echoed off the clock and my mind continued to cripple; becoming more one with death every second. Forget the roses of love and the daisies of joy; they've blown away with the wind. My brain was the consistency of a tombstone with soil so isolated from light. Years revolved around the sun without a peak of it brightening my mind. But as easily as something comes, you mustn't lose sight of how effortlessly it can vanish. A painful series of faults and misinterpretations faded our beings out of the other’s sight. And I can't imagine why the one thing that clasps your life together, eventually has to leave you on your own. And I bet you're on the edge of your seat anticipating these words to start illustrating the second death to my mind. A picture of withering flowers and rock-like soil consuming every happy thought residing in my conscious. How the loss of my security blanket turned me into wreckage. But I'm just as astonished, there has been no such thing. My mind is in a continuation of growth and rebirth. A cultivation of new seeds is arising and the beauty that once overflowed in my head is nonchalantly returning. It’s quite absurd how this all came to be and no elaborate explanation will make this phenomenon easily comprehendible. Rain frequently visits my mind, quenching the the thirst of hope, and sunlight quite often pierces the external of my body, flooding my conscious with exposed love. The atmosphere inside my cranium, complements the development of this unimaginable delicacy. The entirety of my restoration derived from this single rose. Memories, in the form of vines, spiraled up its stem, whispering retrospect into the scarlet petals. But recollect how solid and stony my soil was. For the roots of the rose to maneuver through the compactness of this dirt, they anchored with an unbreakable strength to the deepest region of my conscious. This rose, with thorns of victory and petals of exquisiteness, held my mind composed in that moment of desperation. It is the source of every ounce of life that gives me breath. The recovery of this heavyhearted loss may not be absolutely finished, but my mind is a stronghold. The only element residing in my being is a heart of marvelous gratitude to the one who implanted an unbelievably sovereign seed in my mind in a time of death to my fleeting conscious.