“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery —air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.” ― Sylvia Plath,
-I heard you talking in your sleep last night. -What were you doing? -I was just watching. You seemed sad. -Why didn't you wake me up? -I didn't want to intervene. You seemed like you were suffering somewhere else. I didn't think that it was my place to drag you out, so I just let you be. -So you just let me suffer?