I love Sylvia Plath, I feel so connected to her. This sketch doesn’t look like her, she was beautiful. But I use it anyway because I made it thinking of her. I sometimes wish I had the courage to do what she did. But maybe it wasn’t courage after all, just utter despair. She still had so many words inside her. Like me.
I’m still stuck in the fucking Bell Jar.
But I have a hammer now.
A damn big one
So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them
Sylvia Plath