You don’t know how to be touched. You don’t know how to be loved. You are lonely and yet you push away anybody who tries to get close. You are a ship going under because you cannot stop pouring water onto your hull. And I am the bucket that will never be big enough to hold all of the drowning in you.
Sylvia Plath. 1932-1963
“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.”
How quietly we endure all that falls upon us.
- <b> </b> reblog if you like cats and kinky sex<p>
And if I tremble at the sight of you, it’s not because I’m cold. It’s because I’m staring at the girl I want to love me when I’m old.
I’ve yet to see her,
this soul haunting hospital.
They are both still young —
believing everything heals,
that these halls let go.
“xkit-extension shows the tags of every reblog. go ‘head, talk shit.”
"omgomgomgomg — langleav just reblogged me!”
"that one quote post that still gets notes… a year later”
"if i see one more goddamn poem about ribcages…”
"Joy just deactivated… again”
“never look back… into your archive”
"i found the dark side of tumblr”
"guess who wrote a poem about me. guess!”
"think you’re anonymous? that’s cute.”
"don’t mind me, just over here reblogging myself”