"I am afraid. I am not solid, but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb, paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell, a mimicking nothingness. I never thought, I never wrote, I never suffered. I want to kill myself, to escape from responsibility, to crawl back abjectly into the womb. I do no know who I am, where I am going- and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions."
Sylvia Plath, Nov. 3 1953 entry, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via theloupgaroux)