Sylvia Plath - The Bell Jar
The Bell Jar
by Sylvia Plath
selections
I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life.
If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. I’ll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.
To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream.
I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure at all. How did I know that someday — at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere — the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again?
Filed under: 20th-century, United States, fiction on December 20th, 2006
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