trying to recreate the feeling i've heard described my whole life, to trick my mind into believing it, to think that weightlessness & pure joy can be achieved by someone who has this impossible deep ache woven into their bones

and i realized much of my life had been spent waiting for others to catch up with me

write a love story of yourself, full of thoughts & scribbles, messy head but neat notes. lightning, thunder. rain pouring on the rooftops. there are shutters pounding the house in her head. the wind is ripping the shingles off, off ..

an eternity of longing, self-inflicted

she was trapped in a cage of her own making, rattling the outside, begging for release with the key in her hand

i like poetry and art, reading and photography

i like wide open spaces so that i never feel trapped

and i like leaving people that are good for me for the same reason

perhaps even worse than the ringing, than the longing, than the endless sound of hearing them say they don't love you anymore ---

is when they pick up and ask where you're calling from

(was it ever any surprise?)

sometimes the line rings for an eternity

sometimes, however, the line crackles through

and you get to hear the sound of them saying they don't love you anymore play until your ears bleed