There Must Be Quite A Few Things

The Woman Is Perfected. Her Dead Body Wears The Smile Of Accomplishment.

The One Thing I Was Good At Was Winning Scholarships And Prizes, And That Era Was Coming To An End.

I Am But One More Drop In The Great Sea Of Matter, Defined, With The Ability To Realize My Existence.

Is To Throw Together Events From My Own Life, Fictionalizing To Add Color—it’s A Pot Boiler Really, But I Think It Will Show How Isolated A Person Feels When He Is Suffering A Breakdown . . . I’ve Tried To Picture My World And The People In It As Seen Through The Distorting Lens Of A Bell Jar.

I Couldn’t See The Point Of Getting Up. I Had Nothing To Look Forward To.