Teddy

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And so it will be. I come in around midnight, there’s no telling with the wind blowing, and the wide night with the stars clear – and the lovely fleshly warmth and somehow close to tears because of giving him the ideal, the girl idea which he can always have with him. She is nonexistent, this girl he considers beautiful, soft, loving, intelligent perfection.
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
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