His back was tired of his troubles.

He has sunlight on his eyes when he is excited, nervous.

He is vulnerable, and also incredibly strong.

Disciplined.

Loving.

I couldn't always get his sense of humor, but when I got it was priceless.

He rarely smiles around me, or about me, but when he does it, it feels like bliss, like a blessing, like music.

Hug him is an honor.

Anytime he said something strong against me, like when he said he hated anytime I hugged him on his back, I just read depression, not his actual words.

Maybe he hated it, and I just didn't want to listen to that, like many other things that he said, and I just understood all of those hateful words through his depression.

I was listening to something different, never took those words seriously.

Being a depressive person, and loving a person that deals with mental health is not easy.

You have to fight to keep loving, you need to be resilient against being rejected from his lack of self-worth, being attentive and not expose yourself,  not let yourself get stuck in such a vulnerable position for yourself, and that person.

I still love him.

He might be wiser, and not in love at all like me, he is pragmatic, he urges for a change, for some new blood, to move on from the disaster that was created. Scape, not need to fix a thing...

We both are tired, I am full of hopes about him, he is thirsty of news things.