Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I want to be so many things.
You make me wish I was as beautiful as you seem to think I am.
I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid of how much I like you and the ways in which I like you and how none of it makes sense. I don't even know you. I want to know you.
Monday, February 21, 2011
My eyes adjust to the sunlight outside and that's what it's like
when i first
I can feel you in my bones.
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
- Sylvia Plath