I put new people on a pedestal, worshipping them for their surprising kindness to me, for their benevolent notice. How many silver-plated statues have I erected, only to humanize them as I grew to know their vulnerable frailties?

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via jellyache)

Honestly, sometimes I look at you and think, “please, don’t be so beautiful” I can’t love anymore, I just can’t.

I guess when you make a home with someone, it completely changes you. Home becomes wherever they are. That’s why it’s hard when they leave. You don’t know what ‘home’ means anymore. And after that, you spend all your time just trying to feel ‘okay’ some place.

I want to love. I want to kiss. But I don’t want to hurt.. And this doesn’t seem to be the way things work around here.