I would fix myself for him.
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I should live for once, get out of my mind for a little, and enjoy my friends and family, but I am so comfortable in my mind. I can do whatever I want, I can let myself do things that I would never do in real life because of fear, of judgment. But it brings disadvantages I can't care for anything else, anybody else. I don't appreciate anything. I don't care about anyone. I am turning into a selfish, depraved, greedy, perverted, apathetic, cynical person. And I know I have to change before I get worse but I don't know if I want to get better. Because I tried to fight against me, and I was losing. It hurted so bad that all my forms of escapism were appearing as good options for me. I like to be bad, I get attention, from people I want. And I can include myself in some groups, I can relate and have empathy. The kind of attention I get isn't the best but I like it, honestly, I love it.
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Childless woman- Sylvia Plath
The womb
Rattles its pod, the moon
Discharges itself from the tree with nowhere to go.
My landscape is a hand with no lines,
The roads bunched to a knot,
The knot myself,
Myself the rose you acheive
This body,
This ivory
Ungodly as a child's shriek.
Spiderlike, I spin mirrors,
Loyal to my image,
Uttering nothing but blood
Taste it, dark red!
And my forest
My funeral,
And this hill and this
Gleaming with the mouths of corpses.
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A Better Resurrection- Sylvia Plath
I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.
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