When Sylvia Plath Said, "why Can't I Try On Different Lives, Like Dresses, To See Which Fits Best And

I wish 2021 never happened.

I don't want to live anymore

But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.

- Madeline Miller, Circe

You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you.

- Madeline Miller, Circe

Endings are what give stories meaning. I don’t know if I believe that. I think the whole story has meaning but I also think to have a whole story-shaped story it needs some sort of resolution. Not even a resolution, some appropriate place to leave it. A goodbye.

- Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea

is wanting to vibe under wisteria with my chai and a book too much to ask for?

We are all stardust and stories.

- Erin Morgenstern, The Starless Sea

Icarus has abandoned me:

The cosmos cries comets, the moon bleeds lullabies, and here i am, icarus; i, who can bear the quarrels of fate and time no more. you sought the sun, but did the sun seek you back? does it mourn you, or am i the only one doing that?

Who's stars am i aligning, are they mine? certainly that is what i was told (did you not tell me that, icarus) . those promises that I kept safe so dearly in my pockets, how did they find me? who am i to chase after the remarkable  (i thought i could, in the name of you, icarus).

i, who sought icarus, can hear him no more. i am searching. where are you?

it is your time to find me, icarus; search for me. heal me. answer me.

But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.

- Madeline Miller, Circe

“I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you'd live through. Tell me what the word "home" means to you and tell me in a way that I'll know your mother's name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8.

See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree?

And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they're sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother's joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you've been unkind. Tell me all the ways you've been cruel. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving.

And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people's wounds.”

— Andrea Gibson