Old Room, Old Images; 2023 Was 2 Years Ago. Dangerous How The Time Flies By.

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955

I gave you a love so vast it could have swallowed cities whole. I built galaxies in my chest just to make room for you, carved out pieces of my soul and called them home so you would never feel alone. I was there and offering, but you… you only ever loved the echo of me, the shadow I cast in your mind, not the woman who bled herself dry to be enough. You didn’t love me. You loved the idea of being loved by someone like me. And that was the slow undoing.

You were never really there, not when I shattered quietly in rooms we shared, not when I fell asleep hoping you would see me again, not just look at me. I held up the heavens for us while you watched, arms folded, eyes elsewhere. And still, I stayed. Still, I gave. Foolish, maybe. Devoted, definitely.

Now, that it’s all gone. I have crossed oceans of pain to reach a shore where your name doesn’t burn on my skin anymore. I am somewhere better, freer, lighter. And just when I have stitched myself together with gold thread and midnight prayers, you come back.

You come back with a whisper of apology, a handful of words you never had the courage to speak when I was drowning right in front of you. Why now? Why always after?

It is the cruel theater of time, isn’t it? The final act where ghosts knock at your door once you have already exorcised them. People see your worth only in absence, crave your presence only when it is no longer a gift they are entitled to. Love should never be a posthumous award.

And yet, here I am, haunted not by you, but by the echo of who I was when I loved you. And that is the deepest ache of all.

(Darjeeling’22)

Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student

— Franz Kafka, The Castle | The Lovers of Valdaro

“Hoping for a glimpse of the warmth we once shared…”

Because in the quiet corners of my mind, shades of blue line these walls, each hue a whisper of memories I cannot bear.

They peel themselves from the starless sky, slipping into my bed on nights when sobriety is a fickle friend, and the days offer little solace, each amber light a reminder of you.

But every golden ray falls short, just shy of three PM, when I find myself in a crowded bar, lost among laughter that feels like a distant echo.

There you are, woven into the fabric of strangers' laughs, your essence lingering in a song I've skipped four times on this lonely drive to nowhere.

We exist in that second booth by the window, in the fleeting joy of a good day spent with faces that are not yours.

Even your absence brings the ghost of you to the party, especially your absence— it makes our gathering all the more vital, as if to defy the void you left behind.

Yet within these painted blue walls, darkness reigns supreme, and no light can alter this melancholy hue.

I am forever haunted by your specter, a bittersweet reminder that love lingers long after it has faded.

The daughter in the picture♥️🧿

I like Live Photo’s sm❤️‍🩹

One day...I am going to wake up, look over and find you peacefully asleep beside me, I will admire how beautiful you are and I will draw you closer, showering you with tender kisses.

Life is short, fuck a tumblr mutual.