Sylvia Plath, aged 18, journal entry #92, from "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" (c. July 1951)

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Sylvia Plath, aged 18, journal entry #92, from "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" (c. July 1951)
Royal Heart Advice
What do I do when I have imagined heaven number 1001?
Tuesday Afternoons and Coffee Spoons
Even on a day like today when just two little birds sat at my doorstep, my heart was whistling a tune about three.
524, 703.41 x 42 = ?
Be grateful.
You are here.
You woke up.
You may not have a pocket full of gold. But you have a story that remains untold.
Because you are here.
Because you woke up.
Because somewhere while you were walking the line, my path crossed yours. Somehow your red thread ended up touching mine.
Colliding storms with skin, hoping to create a crack in forever and a happy neverending, for a sweet surrendering. Oh I so hoped it would be.
I always hoped that one day you would want to belong to me, as my favourite. Like our barber shop visits.
Our pancake day turned into days…
I always hoped that one day, maybe, could get lucky and be happy together?
I always wished happiness for you. Now I know to be grateful for your happiness, regardless of with who.
You're here.
You woke up.
You've got a heart full of dreams, and maybe a pocket lined with dumb fucking luck.
Be fucking grateful
- you woke up.
Now chin up.
Today you can be better, because you woke up.
All you might have is your soul.
But believe me, that's worth more weight in my opinion, than gold.
Beauty is caught in the eye
of those
who behold it.
524, 703.41 x 42 = ?
There is not enough money in the world.
All that glitters is not gold.
There are not enough words to describe the beauty that your reflection in my eye beholds.
But alas, Some stories are better left untold.
Scratch scratch. It takes time.
Collected coffee tins for almost a year for this project. I wanted a cost effective storage solution for all my art supplies. I must say, this was a lot of fun. And look at how pretty!
Titformytat! https://youtu.be/0UdaLGMgrG4
NYE
Hey you. Yes, you. Reading this. If you are reading this it means that you helped me transform into the person I am today - and for your part in that, I am forever grateful. May 2017 be challenging and rewarding. May you bloom and grow. I love you more than you will ever know. https://youtu.be/U30gw1Mlk-M
Love is the coal that makes this train roll.
Comes across all shy and coy.
Grey: Not all is black and whites
Somewhere someone is writing a song about you. Tapping it out on bar counters, swallowing the truth down like holy water. Whisky sure does burn going down. Try as I may I will never be numb to you. These boots are made for walking. Johnny Walker Red. Double. And I will be your Nancy Boy. Somewhere someone is writing a stupid fucking sonnet about your stupid ass monchichi monkey face. Tapping it out on your skin, see, it's not something that can be expressed in words. More easily with verbs. But to put it simply, I would love to explore every inch of your weather beaten skin, then I was wondering if you would let me in? Somewhere someone remembers seeing you for the first time on International Towel day. Somewhere that someone was me. I have boarded up all the emergency exits. They are of no use to me, anymore. I am not running but walking towards something different, something better. I am now only starting to like being me. I will find my other half along the way... Somewhere someone is writing a song about you. Tapping it out on a keyboard, inhaling breath like each one may be their last. Somewhere someone is hoping that you are safe and happy. Somewhere someone cares, and right now that someone is me.
FYIWDWYTM
I bet you never thought for one second that I was a victim of being roofied or raped. You made your silly little sick joke not thinking. I bet you just made that misogynistic joke cause your dad used to do the same.
It sickens.
"It is estimated that over 40% of South African women will be raped in their lifetime and that only 1 in 9 rapes are reported." - taken from Wikipedia.
What if I was one of the eight, what if your mother was, your sister, your girlfriend, your daughter?
This is me, speaking up! Now, just shut the fuck up!
How Long Will I Love You
Weird. Like when you made me blush. Hello. That's all you had to say.
Weird. Like when the wrong song started playing. Wait. It was the right song.
Weird. Like how the world fell away. Fallen. For the whole world to see.
Weird. The wrong song playing. Right. That's how it felt.
Floating. Swimming. Always. The ebb and flow of beautiful flaws.
New comic! Check it out over on Webtoon:
http://www.webtoons.com/en/comedy/your-adventure/list?title_no=506
Absolutely Brilliant!!!
What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.
Pedro Arrupe (via quotemadness)
Doodles.