The mess was like the muddle of "A Room with a 
View", in a way, or I think of it that way. I always 
used to say it was like sitting in a green house being
 battered by a storm... I used to say all sorts of 
beautiful things about it, that it was seeing the 
beauty of stars and wanting to throw myself to their 
mercy, because I, as a human, am not nearly to pure 
and beautiful.

 Yes and. and  i lied when  i    said all of that...
     the mess   was  me before I grew  up a bit. it was
all that angst stuff they talk about, like digging 
into your pocket just to remind yourself that it's 
empty, and not wanting to see that it's only your 
pocket, it's not a metaphor for your life if you don't
 want it to be.

You know, I'd do anything to teach other people how to
make it out of this... or to tell them that it will pass.
To help them, to say, "There will be better times.

                                                            (moths)