The Virgin Suicides

just rewatched the virgin suicides, and it still hits me the same way...soft, sad, and beautiful in that painful kind of way. everytime i watch it, i feel this quiet ache. it’s not just about what happened to the lisbon sisters, but about how unseen they were. everyone was watching them, talking about them, but no one actually heard them. that’s what hurts the most. as a girl, this movie hits different. it shows how heavy it can be to carry sadness when no one believes you, when you look “fine" but you’re not. and how sometimes people realize too late that love means listening, not controlling, not idealizing. i watch this and think: maybe the real tragedy wasn’t their deaths, but how no one really listened while they were alive. it’s a reminder that suicide doesn’t come from nowhere. it comes from silence, from loneliness, from being misunderstood for too long. this movie makes me want to be softer with people, to check in, to listen, because you never really know what someone’s holding inside. it's such a sad movie, but it’s also strangely beautiful, like a memory that hurts to remember, but you can’t let go of.