the realm

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This. I must rant:
Six years ago, before everything started, I was a brilliant kid. I would draw, write, play the piano and everything came from the inside, nobody taught me (my parents were against it) and it made me happy. Slowly, depression sneaked in, and I started losing my talent, the very little I had. Before that I would pass all my tests without even looking at the testbook. Now I can’t concentrate and I fail practically everything, I can’t play more than 5 minutes straight the piano and my creativity is absolutely gone, which has left me with nothing, because art was all I had. I sleep way too much and wake up tired. So I went from a kid who shined and was admired to someone who is constantly disappointing people, because they expect me to be as good as I was before, and I aren’t anymore.
I can’t. I can’t study, I can’t rest, I can’t create. Literally, a part of me is dead, and I can’t help it. It makes me so sad.


I am afraid of getting older… I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free… I want, I want to think, to be omniscient… I think I would like to call myself ‘The girl who wanted to be God.’ Sylvia Plath, written in 1949 at age 17 (via opendisplaysof-contempt)

perfect ♥

(or any other day)