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Clawing at you | source

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Oh my god

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I told the stars about you. I know you donāt see yourself an ideal subject for exceptional bodies as these, but they appeared to enjoy hearing of your beauty. How can you say you are not beautiful? My dear, you cannot perceive your elegance. You are a cluster of stardust, a reincarnation of nebulas combusting like constellations join your arteries, you are beyond beautiful. You are soft and golden as sunlit honey. I envy the way the rain kisses your skin as a soft yet passionate kiss. I say this yet you still insist otherwise. Darling, just the glimpse of you stops men dead in their tracks, to admire yourĀ grace. Not knowing would be ignorant. Your image will forever imprint my brain. I sit here anticipating your return as a dog obediently waiting for its owner. I have been diminished to a being of want. The only thing to satisfy the desire would be you, my love. I miss you not solely in a lustful way but in a way that a young child yearns its parents. The child cannot do anything about the absence of its parents hence they wait. One day seems to be a lifetime when nothing can undertake the position of keeping myself occupied. I know I need to let you go, this obsession with you has overwhelmed me.
I have gotten through the winterās haze and the summerās days all without you. To be honest it was the thought of you carrying me through the days. Simply put, the ability to fantasize about you and what could have been has made my entire year worthwhile. Knowing that in just a little longer I can meet you, my dear. Youāre all Iāve ever wanted and youāre all IĀ want still. Youāre all I can think of when everything reminds me of you. Sunlight; Your golden, honey-colored hair. Nightingales; waking up to your fascinating hums. Rain; the days spent cuddled together listening to the radio. My love, the smallest āflawā is saved in my memory as one of your most beautiful features. Everything you do is beauty in my eyes.
I struggle to put into words my happiness, my golden conditional happiness, a happiness that can only be created by you. I am owned by not only you but the thought of you. All my memories, letters, outbursts, introspection of my thoughts? All owned by you. You are the motivation of all of my creations. I hear your voice when I write this, hearing every word and how you will pronounce it. I cannot recall a single regret that I haven'tĀ lived through with you. No matter the size of the action, one of the most intransmissible feelings, observing the beauty of the golden horizon, every moment with you is a memory; one cherished forever.
Can you see my happiness? I write these words down as I know I cannot tell you this over the phone, coming out of my mouth it comes out completely wrong. With you one needs to speak wonderfully, similar to the way people speak to the dead.Ā
Dear, you are lightness and everything pureā¦but like all things you can be bruised by a hideous diminutive because you are truly resonant. Like seawater, my love. I swear by everything that is real. I have never loved as I love you. A love with such tenderness to the point of tears, a love with such radiance that I fear I cannot live without you. My angel, my sweet heavenly Angel, you have the power to make words seem miserably insufficient in a way that no words can be issued from my being. You, and only you, are in my thoughts in a way that makes me think myself simpleminded. The horrific thought that your presence alone can diminish me to a mindless being as such. Intimidating.
I remember clearly those nights, deep and dewy silences. How quiet it isĀ to be aroused at this time? Our bodies together, fitting perfectly, feeling your body against mine, listening to the sweet music coming from your body. The way our fingers weave together as if they were created for one purpose and one purpose only; to hold you. To see you at such a vulnerable moment is magic. A glorious feeling it is; your burning lips against me, lighting small fires along my body. The burns leave a fiery blotch; one that I wish to harbor for all eternity. I lay next to you knowing Iāll have to leave soon.
Dearest, do you know why mercury is small and discolored? Because the planet itself is too close to the sun. I love your warmth but I am terrified of being burned. You are my sun, my love. The one and only. Iāve settled down to you doggedly and loyally. I have come to develop an emotional connection to you. A feeling of alignment and intimacy between ourselves; a feeling that goes beyond mere attraction, our memories, conversations, or even intellectual similarities. My dear, I feel as if our souls are connected in a way that I feel our beings are one.
I want you my love, but Iām seen as needing him. Youāre the one I prefer but he's the one I'm arranged to spend my life with. He offers wealth but you provide affinity. You know, lovely, his feelings are not returned. Heās the one I wish would disappear. I cannot stand to look at his face; to see a man who has no interest in a woman. In our case there is no such thing as forever.Ā Why, why would something so beautiful dissipate? Is it because our great creator didnāt design our pieces to fit together? Because we have been the same way for thousands of years and created the standard of normal? Such small insignificant forces as humans; beings who put the behavior of social groups above themselves? No, it is the unadorned fact that the only thing that keeps one like myself away is a social standard so simple that it is often seen as black and white. The silent rule that two women cannot love.

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Sylvia Plath, aged 25, from "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" (dated March 8, 1958)
<33
How Iāll always love him.
Being sensitive is a strengthāit means you feel deeply. But unkindness? Thatās a choice, and a sad one.