Elegy.
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half finished diaries ♡ wilted flowers ♡ voice notes never replayed ♡ familiar streets at night ♡ & the end credits of a film.
I can tell time has passed by the wash of your denim. The blue never lasts, but it doesn't fade for me.
I stopped looking for people who understood me. Most people can barely understand themselves. I learned to enjoy the silence, the solitude, the nights. There is a strange kind of freedom in being misunderstood. And an even stranger beauty in not giving a damn.
I stopped looking for people who understood me. Most people can barely understand themselves. I learned to enjoy the silence, the solitude, the nights. There is a strange kind of freedom in being misunderstood. And an even stranger beauty in not giving a damn.
I stopped looking for people who understood me. Most people can barely understand themselves. I learned to enjoy the silence, the solitude, the nights. There is a strange kind of freedom in being misunderstood. And an even stranger beauty in not giving a damn.
I stopped looking for people who understood me. Most people can barely understand themselves. I learned to enjoy the silence, the solitude, the nights. There is a strange kind of freedom in being misunderstood. And an even stranger beauty in not giving a damn.
