I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.

I think I am mad sometimes.

I sank back in the gray, plush seat and closed my eyes. The air of the bell jar wadded round me and I couldn't stir.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free.

If I was going to fall, I would hang on to my small comforts, at least, for as long as I possibly could.

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.

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.