Break your image and wrench it from me.
Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956 — Richard Sassoon, 1st March 1956
Break your image and wrench it from me.
Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956 — Richard Sassoon, 1st March 1956
But she was caught in the nightmare of the body […]
Sylvia Plath, Johnny Panic and The Bible of Dreams; from ‘Tongues of Stone’
Turn out the light and I’ll explain.
James Fenton, Out of Danger; from ‘I’ll Explain’
Caitlin Bailey, Solve for Desire; from ‘Somewhere a Key’ (edited excerpt)
You wanna know what I did with the body? What is a body, anyway? Known only because someone called it so. Without my consent. Awarded me this trophy. Covered in fingerprints, dust & grime. The body should be on trial. Fuck, the body is a trial. My memory, a field of landmines. I blink and everything I have tried to forget blows up in my face. The shrapnel, that is where I exist. In the rations of everything that has happened to me. Not in a body. So, I tried to get rid of it. Use it against itself. If you look hard enough down the throat of a bottle. You’ll find it. Lying, almost lifeless, somewhere between death and freedom.
Roya Marsh, from dayliGht; “in broad dayliGht suicidal black girls look guilty”
“I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.”— Ruta Sepetys, Salt to the Sea (via surqrised)
When I sink deep, now, and I still do from time to time, I try and understand that there is another, bigger and stronger part of me that is not sinking. It stands unwavering.
Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive