Theme
Mad Girl's Love Song
ArchiveMessageRSSBooksothers
Jennifer.

Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
endure, endure, and the syllables harden like stoic white sheets struck with rigor mortis on the clothesline of winter.
— Sylvia Plath (letter -1955)
Filed under: plath, sylvia plath, endure, winter, depression, recovery, therapy, mental health, mental illness, self harm,
Source:

The first snow of winter; walking home with the soft wet flakes cascading down turning me into a white silhouette among darkness. Watching the fat flakes make their timely dance to the ground where they become just another part of the whiteness under my feet, in my hair, on my clothes. I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to tumble from the sky and float ever-so-gently and know that I will be embraced when I reach the bottom. I will never be alone.

Filed under: snow, alone, winter,