Sylvia Plath. Under a glass cover (№ 299374)

Should be, there is light at the misfortune, which will not heal and the hot tub, but I almost do not know. As soon as I begin to weary sadness, as soon as I feel myself dying as soon as I get mad to such an extent that I can't sleep, as soon as someone will fall in love, or being separated from a lover for a week once I reach a certain point of despair, I tell myself, "take me now hot bath".