Geçmişe dönüş noslaji, yola müzik🎤🎼🎹🎶
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Geçmişe dönüş noslaji, yola müzik🎤🎼🎹🎶
sometimes letting tears fall is what allows one to bloom again
“I haven’t been very impressed lately. By people, or places, or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.” ― Charlotte Eriksson
Excuse me I need to go cry.
I love this scene.
...d...do you have...an audio clip of...you saying everything will be okay... -puts my fingers together like an anime girl-
I hope you like it.
VOLUME WARNING
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Script below if needed.
Warning, I sound nothing like Elliott.
Enjoy!
Script Below if needed.
Some lose all mind and become soul, insane. Some loose all soul and become mind, intellectual. Some lose both and become accepted. - Charles Bukowski
In my own haunting era. i feel naturally drawn towards trauma, childhood horrors, ghosts of people who loiter in the tiny corner of my heart once the evening falls. The sun never rises in my mind, it's always midnight with me having nowhere to go.
A poem for a Coward
I was once your Hellfire and your Holy Water…something you reached for with shaking hands, like salvation you didn’t trust, like ruin you couldn’t resist.
We moved like a story written backwards,love unraveling before it ever learned to hold itself still. Hazy. Afraid. Already leaving while we were still arriving.
“Don’t pay me any mind” I said, as I kept holding you through the unhappy ending, as if love could soften what it was already becoming.
You taught me what it means for tenderness to turn on its own reflection. Each man kills the thing he loves and I wonder if you ever noticed how quietly you were doing it. You ruined me, and I try to wear it beautifully, like something holy I wasn’t meant to survive.
Everything I want to say, I swallow. It sits heavy behind my teeth like a prayer that learned too late it had no listener.
I hate that you loved me for my pain. and I hate that I loved it all the same. I thought the noose you gave me was a necklace. I wore it like proof I was chosen, not realizing I was being tightened into absence.
Now sometimes I feel like a dead thing, still learning the shape of being left. A ghost practicing how to haunt the place where we used to be real
- Jules