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1,049 Posts by itssylviaplath
1,049 Posts by itssylviaplath
I love people I don't know. It is the strangers that are easiest to love at this hard time. They do not demand and watch, always watch.
The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars letting in the light, peephole after peephole.
I want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love.
It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.
I have the old beginning-of-the-week panic, because I cannot read and think enough to meet my little academic obligations.
Strange, that having lived in such passion, such striking and tears, such fierce joy, I could turn so cold, so disgusted.
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