The Weekend—

I am tired. Every part of me is tired. I am so thankful daily for the brightest blessings. But I have had enough thinking.

It is a space that I have created so that I can express myself and feel the way I want to. How to quiet my thoughts.. how to turn off this waterfall? All I want to do is not think anymore.

It is not that I am sad. I am not in the cloud of overindulged over-exasperated mixed emotions. It is simply that I am tired. I simply want peace and quiet. I want to smile and not over think it.

Solitude.

𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞~

Her script had previously been altered by The New York Times, which called it a "Folly-wood production." Typical. The War in Bosnia was, of course, a sensitive matter. Any aspect of warfare is extremely illogical and challenging to comprehend. Angelina was aware of that. She also understood that she couldn't anticipate an easy transition into the directing world. The actress was prepared to make her script a reality, though, now that the red tape had been removed.

There were a lot of files, pens, cameras, and storyboards in her home office. She had battled like an animal in a cage for this film to be made. She was certain that her mind had become scrambled from all the writing—and rewriting she'd done.

A good war movie gave Angelina a feeling of reliance, and she adored them. She could only hope that this film, for which she had done beneficial research, would draw a sizeable audience. It would be different to direct it. The devoted actress has collaborated with some of the best filmmakers throughout her career. As time passed, Angelina saw that she was taking notes. However, her brother was the first person she turned to.

Having chosen two separate routes, Angelina obviously appreciated her brothers' advice. They spoke on the phone for many hours, the majority of which were him assuring her that she could accomplish this.

Angelina had agreed to star in two major films between her major debut as a director. It was insane how she ended up committed to multiple projects at once.

The brunette sighed shakily as she glanced over the final script draft that Universal Studios had authorized. This would undoubtedly be different from still photos of flowers, sneaky photos of Brad, and all the other ridiculous things she performed with her camera. Angelina had to begin arranging auditions for the top actors and actresses with the help of her dependable team.

Angelina wanted— no, she needed this film to capture what couldn't be told by anyone else. In her veins, Angelina knew she could do this. She found herself up at night, penning and configuring almost every finer detail. That's just how it had to be.

Angelina pulled her hair back in a loose bun and gathered her screenplay, camera, and passport. Location, location, location. She had been looking for the ideal location to film the movie in order to hone her ability to make it. The US Embassy, of course, had its own restrictions on where she could and could not film.

She would have a full day with 5 to 18-hour flights, photocalls, writing, and solo photography. But she enjoyed it that way. Angelina discovered herself in a time when she needed to keep moving in order for the fire inside of her to be useful. The stunning actress closed the door behind her and turned to her script.

‘𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚.’

Lisa Rowe: Highs and lows increasingly severe. Controlling relationships with patients. No appreciable response to meds. No remisson observed. Lisa thinks she’s hot shit because she’s a sociopath.

Franz Wright, from God's Silence; "Why Is the Winter Light"

[Text ID: Empty me of the bitterness and disappointment of being nothing but myself]

Angelina Jolie (1996)

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝒉𝑒𝑠.

𝐻𝑖𝑔𝒉 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠, 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

𝐻𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝒉𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

𝒉𝑖𝑔𝒉 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑐𝒉. 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝐵𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐𝒉.

𝐿𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑔𝒉𝑡𝑠.

𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒.

Where I wanna be. Where I oughta be. Where I will be. ♥️

in & above instagram

Space is like a shelter in many forms. The way that space feels both accessible and far beyond. How elaborate the voyage details are. When Earth has reached its nadir, how hazy the soul remains.

Within many ways, I am a drawback. Just to re-trail, I trail. I forget so I can recall. I think back to position myself in time. When was? Where am I supposed to be? What should I do still?

Space. Stars, dreams, and imaginative creations are the foundation of my life. These are real yet far away. I am the galaxy, yet the burned out stars are the only ones that call me home.

I'm constantly looking for my position on this planet. I'm broken, blind, and ecstatic that I still have a path ahead of me...