I sit there, waiting for something to happen. I wait for a miracle. I don't know what I'm expecting. Just something big. So I sit there and wait until it happens. Until something helps me escape the wretched life I'm living. I want out. I want to be free.
Not a Christmas sprinkle, but a man-high January deluge, that sort that snuffs out schools and offices and churches, and leaves, for a day or more, a pure blank sheet in place of memo pads, date books and calendars. Sylvia Plath- The Bell Jar