seen from Russia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Guinea
seen from T1
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany

seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye
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seen from Bulgaria

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
“she was a bird on the water she was clouds reflected she was trees sighing in the wind she was sunlight through Venetian blinds she was dust motes circling lazily she was Sunday morning sex she was smiling at me in the mirror she was bonfires under a pale moon she was tidal waves of emotion she was whirlpools of conviction she was typhoons of jealousy and I was there too she is the silhouette of a cigarette pressed to my teeth she is my shadow cast behind me in the setting sun she is blue-tinged smoke silently filling the room she is burning my eyes like chlorine in a crowded pool she is bars of the cage where my mind is kept penned she is electric fencing wrapped around my heart she is buckets of tar drowning me in my dreams she is written in cursive on the insides of my eyelids she is slowly shriveling my liver and blackening my lungs she is living in all the mirrors I look into she is becoming Brobdingnagian prose maybe that’s just me but, I’m not there anymore. So why is she still here?”
- Tenses of Her, by Justin Wampler
we are just suicidal people telling other suicidal people that suicide isn't the answer