The Bell Jar

by Sylvia Plath

The room hovered around me with great gentleness,

I wondered what terrible thing it was that I had done.

I didn’t want to go at first, because I thought Jody would notice the change in me, and that anybody with half an eye would see I didn’t have a brain in my head.

The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you.

How did I know that someday – at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere – the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again?