Bits and peices keep coming back to me. Someone calling my name over and over “Alex, Alex, wake up. Wake up Alex, c’moon.” Nothing. “Aaah fuck…”
Then someone else, calling me ‘hun’. She has an accent, northen maybe. She made the ‘x’ in my name sound like an ‘s’ too. “Alesandra? Alesandra, honey c’mon wake up for me” Movement. Darkness. Vomit. Darkness. They kept saying i needed to respond now. Then exasperation when i remained unconcious.
"I’m not having a go at you but let this be a lesson to you."
Tears of disgrace, shame.
This kind of fucked up shit never happens to me. What the fuck’s wrong with me.
“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”—Sylvia Plath (via atavus)
“But beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty — it came too readily, came too completely. It stilled life — froze it. One forgot the little agitations; the flush, the pallor, some queer distortion, some light or shadow, which made the face unrecognisable for a moment and yet added a quality one saw for ever after.”—Virginia Woolf,To The Lighthouse. (via fuckyeahvirginiawoolf)