☆☆☆
i honestly have nothing to say about myself.
i just can't find the words.
the trees, like lungs, filling with air. my sister - the mean one - pulling my hair.
ask
i honestly have nothing to say about myself.
i just can't find the words.
the trees, like lungs, filling with air. my sister - the mean one - pulling my hair.
“
it didn’t matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn’t heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death, and where we will never find the pieces to put them back together.
— the virgin suicides
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The Virgin Suicides
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