21st-century-diary

[21st-century-diary]

"We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, Me and you."

–Sylvia Plath, from “Lesbos”, 18 October 1962

[21st-century-diary]

“I never realized what a big deal that was. How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head.”

— Nina LaCour, Hold Still

[21st-century-diary]

absolute reality, but clustered with ghosts

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath c. August 1957

[21st-century-diary]

“There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart.”

— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

[21st-century-diary]

…for both of them looked forward to a time when love, springing like the phoenix from its own ashes, should be born again in its mysterious and unfathomable haunts.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (via wedge-of-words)

[21st-century-diary]

I am fucking tired of staying up late and thinking about everything I have ever done wrong, and how much everything hurts.

late night thoughts (via sa-dnesss)

[21st-century-diary]

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day.

Emily Brontë, Fall, Leaves, Fall (via wedge-of-words)

[21st-century-diary]

And so he mourned as he moved about the world, deserted and alone, lamenting his unhappiness day and night, until death’s flood brimmed up in his heart.

Beowulf, trans. by Seamus Heaney (via wedge-of-words)

[21st-century-diary]

i carved the face of someone no longer alive into / the sky so that i did not grieve alone. i plucked the moon. peeled / its rind. as the world turned in the dark, i filled myself on its pulp.

— Alfredo Aguilar, from “I’m Told My Younger Siblings Look up to Me,” On This Side Of The Desert (via lifeinpoetry)

[21st-century-diary]

“but that’s the things about letting someone open you up and play with your heart, they never sew you back up afterwards”

— Ranata Suzuki

[21st-century-diary]

There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't.

— John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

[21st-century-diary]

“A thread united them–visible, invisible, like those threads, now seen, now not, that unite trembling grass blades in autumn before the sun rises. She had met him once only, at a cricket match. And then had been spun between them an early morning thread before the twigs and leaves of real friendship emerge.”

— Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts (via wedge-of-words)

[21st-century-diary]

POPPIES IN JULY

Little poppies, little hell flames, Do you do no harm? You flicker. I cannot touch you. I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns. And it exhausts me to watch you Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth. A mouth just bloodied. Little bloody skirts! There are fumes that I cannot touch. Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules? If I could bleed, or sleep!– If my mouth could marry a hurt like that! Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule, Dulling and stilling. But colorless. Colorless.

–Sylvia Plath, written 20 July 1962, Ariel, 1965

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Image source: http://lovingsylvia.tumblr.com/

[21st-century-diary]

[21st-century-diary]

[21st-century-diary]

bring me the horizon - can you feel my heart

[21st-century-diary]