Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals
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Anaïs Nin, from from Fire: From “A Journal of Love”: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1937
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*loses my mind in the most silent way ever*
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:>
some people feel like nostalgia; the deepest comfort and greatest sadness all at once
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Bling of Romance
are we seeing the same stars?
are we wishing for the same thing?
for the sound of our beating hearts,
for the each time the stars bling,
we are one,
the universe making us its fan.
are you still looking at the sky?
are you still fascinated by the view?
for when I wanted to ask why,
for when I looked at you I suddenly knew,
you were staring at me,
instead of the gift the Gods offered you to see.
am I still breathing?
am I caught in the depths of your eyes?
for I hear my heart softly whispering
for I feel myself breath out a lie
that you we're nothing, even if in my universe,
you light up the sky.
-C.H.
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Me: I’m strong and independent. I don’t need love to be happy!
Also me: If a tall, rich, and handsome man doesn’t walk across a field in the early morning mist to tell me that I have bewitched him body and soul soon I might have to do something drastic
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