27. Juni 2016

"The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" by Sylvia Plath

So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-sliver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of the fresh-fallen snow, with the myriad sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessed neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.