I don’t want to live. Now listen, life is lovely, but I can’t live it. I can’t even explain. I know how silly it sounds, but if you knew how it felt, to be alive, yes, alive, but to not be able to live it, I am like a stone that lives, locked outside of all that’s real. Anne, do you know of such things, can you hear? I wish, or think I wish, that I were dying of something for then I could be brave, but to be not dying, and yet to be behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where I can’t, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong, to do it all wrong. Believe me, can you? What’s wrong? I want to belong. I’m like a Jew who ends up in the wrong country. I’m not a part. I’m not a member. I’m frozen.
~ Anne Sexton, letter to herself (via depressionparty)
via invisiblebee (originally beautyisanillusion)
