Full of Sound and Fury, signifying nothing

Here it is, where the cracks show and where i'll say everything i can't

[theburninghills]

Sleep is evading me for the first time in my life really. I take melatonin and it helps to drift off but soon enough I am jostled wide awake. I do me wide awake. It's as if I'm getting up after 8 hours of sleep. I never feel sleepy instead its as if evrery next day is the first day of school after summer vacation. I. Can't. Sleep. Even throughout the day carrying on life I never feel tired. A nap is not needed. Instead, I just feel like I've been on a 10 hour flight. Eyes are dry and skin feels thick and stale.

[theburninghills]

I still write to you but I keep it hidden here.

I still write to you even though you left me.

And I still want you to read what I write about you.

[theburninghills]

“Two days ago, I was walking through Versailles and I came across the avenue that leads to the palace. I thought very hard about you then and I wished to show you this light for real one day.”

—

F (via theburninghills)

I saw this light for real one day. And you were not there. You had already abandoned me in that city of light. I walked in the palace and saw lots of beautiful things but I felt nothing. 

Imagine that, being in goddam beautiful Versailles and feeling nothing?

[theburninghills]

I wonder what you meant "I thought very hard about you then" What did you think and how long was the thought? Did you pause in your walking, close your eyes, make a wish?

I can't imagine you ever thinking very long or hard about me then or ever.

Thinking hard about me would betray a kind of feeling you were never honest with me about.

[theburninghills]

4 Gimlets In

And one Bon Iver song

Thats how much it takes to get you on my mind

[liv-en]

It’s the sound of me unlocking, and you lift away.

Your love will be safe with me.

[theburninghills]

This song. The song that I hear my life being played along to.

[wildersage]

@douceurs

[theburninghills]

I'm thinking of you

Now

And wondering why I'm thinking of you.

Is it because you were the first, the first to make me feel love, the first to capture me? I wonder what you're doing and what you're feeling and where you are. Through out time and life experience I find myself checking in with the memory of you -- forever curious.

I'd like to hear from you. Or so I think. I reflect then on our last conversation, some time not too long ago-- last year I believe

And I remember how it was nothing. You didn't care about what was new with me or who I now was. You were only interested in communicating with a past that wasn't present.

[interdimensionvl]

[theburninghills]

I had a dream about you last night. One of those dreams that feels like reality. As if in my slumber I crossed over to another life, another timeline and experienced this:

We were there together up to our old tricks. You were leaving again. Over here just for a brief visit for some reason I didn't suss out. I didn't care. You called and I answered. Your leaving seemed more permanent this time and I guess that is why I answered. There was more feeling too. Maybe you had given me the honesty I had always been seeking from you.

You had a flight to catch. We left the hotel room, all dark save for the bathroom light on. We parted ways and that was that. But for some reason I went back. I entered the room and found all of the things you had left behind. Your shoes. A hat. Sweaters. Things that smelled of you and things that made up the caricature of you. I couldn't decide if you were in a rush and accidentally left these things behind, or if you left them for me to keep as little treasures, or if life was over for you and nothing mattered and you were going home to end it all. I was very afraid it was the latter.

And still I searched that room for more concrete pieces of you. Words, a letter, work papers or a thumb drive. Even if it was something mundane I wanted a piece that was of your way of being.

[weltenwellen]

Forugh Farrokhzad, tr. by Sholeh Wolpé, from “On Loving”, Sin: Selected Poems

[glazedeye-s]

the angel, by benjamin victor.

[sophi-aubrey]

De Hoge Veluwe

[conscious-love]

[seabeck]

Foggy slopes

[theburninghills]

Me Having a Majorly Depressive Episode: "I want to die."

Them: "You're...kidding...right?"

Me: "..."

Them: "..."

Me: "Yeah! Totally!"

[rosyc-deactivated20250912]

Her charm

[metaphorformetaphor]

“Are you counting the years of my absence, remembering a first encounter, a place, an hour? […] You’re sitting on your house’s stone floor watching the season’s flow.”

— Etel Adnan, from “There,” The Poetry of Arab Women: A Contemporary Anthology, edited by Nathalie Handal (Interlink Books, 2015)