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    i'm anna lee and i want to be an artist

cotton candy skies

My Wife Yoko, 1968-1976 
Nobuyoshi Araki

    Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.

    — Hermann Hesse (via wonderfulambiguity)


    “what if the aborted baby could have cured cancer???”

    oh my god what if the last egg I bled onto a kotex product could have cured cancer??

    oh my god how am I not birthing every possible egg I produce, lest one of those resulting babies be the person who cures cancer/AIDS/creates world peace????

    what if that baby could have been a musical artist described by pitchfork as “liberace with a metalcore twist”????

    how dare i not be pregnant/birthing all the time always?????

    …I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me. Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence. Of the millions, I, too, was potentially everything at birth.

    — Sylvia Plath, from The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via liquidnight)