“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”—The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath (via stellarexplosion)
I've got to fucking get out of here and do something with my life it's like a primal instinct now
I’m getting paranoid from watching these walls and someday soon I can feel in my bones that I’m gonna go screaming out the door and no one’s gonna know what to say to stop me from leaving and if I sit real still, I can feel the blood cook in my veins, and my cells splitting in two over and over again, and life boils on while I sit and lose myself in reveries, which can only fill so much of one’s satisfaction quota, and right now it’s not cutting it at all. I get these spurts of determination where I make things happen, and my goal right now is to figure out how I can be in this mindset alla thee time, so I can get somewhere, do something, be someone, not just some smalltown fucking girl who has her party years goes to some community college gets knocked up and tied down by some fucking boyfriend and then is strapped to a dainty life that will end quietly and unnoticed, like an ironic time bomb, and it’s so far away, but it can happen so fast. I don’t know where the past year has gone, but oh, I do. I know exactly where it has gone. Since last November, I’ve strapped myself to a train of a dream that’s going nowhere fast, and I hold on because I get inklings of hope that something will spark and set fire to a chain of miraculous events, but I can’t let anyone know this, I can’t even tell one of my closest friends, because surely someone would send me to the funny farm. Secrets like these shouldn’t matter, but this one has been eating me up from the insides for almost a year, and I think if I don’t drop it soon enough I’m going to completely give myself over to it. It’s not indecisiveness this time, it’s always thinking that something is there when it never will be. I fool myself far too easily.
But no matter how much this thing makes me twitch and shake and shiver, I will always hold out until the last minute in hope of it finally happening.
I secretly want to be your best friend and let you cry on my shoulder if you ever need anything. I want for you to just tell me about your life, all the boring and good stuff. And maybe we aren't even compatible as friends to go hang, chill, and have fun but I'd still like to get to know you and let you know I won't change the way I think about you no matter how messed up you are.
You put me in a good mood! Now I’m smiling at everything. :)