In English for the past few days, we’ve been studying Sylvia Plath, who’s poetry I personally love. It has this intense, terrifying effect on me because at some points, I can see where she’s coming and understand her feelings and thoughts so precisely that I could cry right there in the middle of class.
But, let’s just discuss the fact that we live in a world where I have to go to school with dickheads so supremely immature and stupid that while I’m thinking and feeling and going through all this (as in sure plenty of other people are) they make fun of the way in which Sylvia Plath took her own life.
A mind of genius caliber, a talent so profound and powerful lost at such a young age to depression, a serious problem facing so many of us,
and they make fun of it.
Yet when i swear at them for it, i’m the one one who gets in shit with the teacher, not the dickhead making fun of mental illness.
I honestly don’t know how much longer i can take this, i really don’t.
Hatred toward Cho Chang and Lavender Brown and adoration toward Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, a study in misogyny, sexism and double-standards by me.
those tags are beautiful