jamstains:

arcticdiscos:

 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.” 

I love her.

jamstains:

arcticdiscos:

 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.” 

I love her.

(via whorchata)

basicaquatics:

dear you,

you are 23 years old and this morning you knew your eyeliner was a keeper because it did not move from its place when you cried on your drive to work this morning. you are 23 years old and yesterday after work you crawled right into bed and cried yourself to sleep at 5:30 in the afternoon. 23 and you suddenly realize why the only songs written about being 23 are sad ones. it’s an age neither here or there, lost in the obnoxious clamor of 22 and panicked meltdown of milestone-year 25. you assume 24 will fall inside this same confusing void, but at 23 you are too old to be lost but too young to know any better about it all. you don’t know how to get yourself hot enough to burn up so that you can light your own way. they don’t teach you that yet, not at 23.

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