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chapter 17

“With my new friends, being weird is a good thing, as long as it's the same weird as them.”

this is POETRY.

“no matter how much you knelt and prayed, you still had to eat three meals a day and have a job and live in the world”

“ i was going to cry. i didn’t know why i was going to cry, but i knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and i’d cry for a week.

i understand why people group the bell jar and my year of rest and relaxation together

im enjoying this a lot and i find that its a really easy read. very taken aback by the casual racism