I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever. With masks down, I walk, talking to the moon, to the neutral impersonal force that does not hear, but merely accepts my being.
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Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath
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Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath
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