What would you tell your 14-year-old self?
Submitted by nessastooshort
Happy birthday to meeee
-Sylvia Plath /1932 – 1963/
There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself—-
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.
A gray wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.
This red wall winces continually :
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two gray, papery bags—-
This is what I am made of , this and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and a rain of pietas.
On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel thier heads and cry.
There is no talk of immortality among these!
Cold blanks approach us :
They move in a hurry.
—written 28 May 1962
i feel like tall people at concerts have everything they want in the world
— Henry Ward Beecher (via stay-ocean-minded)
Faith in Humanity RestoredThese make me cry every time
4ever in my bookmarks