Christina Patterson

“Her father was right. Her poems are powerful. They are not Sylvia Plath, but there was only one Sylvia Plath. 'The thing was,' said Frieda, 'if I'm lying on my death bed, who would I have pleased by not living how I need to live, in order to have a happy, or reasonable, or successful, or productive, or even a completely non-successful, but, you know, quite muddling-along-in-an-OK-fashion life? It's up to us how we get from A to B to C to D. I might never light up the sky. None of us might. It doesn't matter. What matters is: did you do the best you could with the tools you had at hand?”
― Christina Patterson, The Art of Not Falling Apart