Tuesday, January 24, 2006
sigh, feeling very emo right now. i need some rest, some comfort food, and it just so happens that tomorrow's my free day, so i get some downtime too. i'm not gonna cry or get angry - i'll think things through calmly. in a way i'm glad i've learnt to be more rational because i suppose i'd be a perpetual wreck if i gave in to my heart all the time. well, it's the direct cause of my current malaise so i'm working on being less impulsive.…What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited. Yet I am not a cretin: lame, blind and stupid. I am not a veteran, passing my legless, armless days in a wheelchair. I am not that mongoloidish old man shuffling out of gates of the mental hospital. I have too much to live for, yet unaccountably I am sick and sad. Perhaps you could trace my feeling back to my distaste at having to choose between alternatives. Perhaps that's why I want to be everyone - so no one can blame me for being I. So I won't have to take the responsibility for my own character development and philosophy. People are happy - - - if that means being content with your lot: feeling comfortable as the complacent round peg struggling in a round hole, with no awkward or painful edges – no space to wonder or question in. I am not content, because my lot is limiting, as are all others. People specialize; people become devoted to an idea; people "find themselves." But the very content that comes from finding yourself is over-shadowed by the knowledge that by doing so you are admitting you are not only a grotesque, but a special kind of grotesque. -The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, July 1950- July 1953
rachel at 10:47 PM