A vintage love

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

[miyaskylans]

[raylangivins]

[bonivers]

[perrfectly]

[calellon]

unfortunately i could never be nonchalant because i am not well in the head and also my soul is on fire

[reemillustrated]

[weltenwellen]

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

[weltenwellen]

Tracy K. Smith, from “Don’t You Wonder, Sometimes?”, Life on Mars

[mournfulroses]

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

Tonight, even the silence had weight.

And it knew exactly where to hurt.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

Missing you isn’t something I feel.

It’s something I am.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

You are the space in me that nothing fills.

The silence that drowns out sound.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

I don’t miss you like a memory.

I miss you like a wound.

Open. Unhealed.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

I miss you in ways I can’t explain.

In the quiet moments.

In the loud ones.

I miss you when I laugh,

because you’re not here to hear it.

I miss you when I cry,

because you’re the one I’d run to.

And some days,

missing you feels like the only thing I know how to do.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

I want to open up.

I do.

But I’m scared.

Scared that if I say it out loud,

it’ll become too real.

Scared that once it leaves my mouth,

I won’t be able to hold myself together anymore.

So I stay quiet.

Not because it doesn’t hurt—

but because I’m afraid

of how much it does.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

I smile like it’s easy,

like there’s nothing behind it.

But there’s a locked door in me

shaking on its hinges.

And if someone ever opens it—

everything will pour out.

All the hurt, all the silence,

all the pain I’ve buried just to survive.

It won’t be a cry for help.

It’ll be a flood.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

I can look like the happiest person in the room

and still carry enough pain

to drown the whole world.

It lives behind my laughter,

tucked into every smile,

hidden so well

no one ever thinks to ask.

[pierduta-printre-randuri]

Beneath the quiet skin

lives a storm

aching to burn this world to ash.