The Bell Jar - Blog Posts

Esther Greenwood is a lesbian send tweet

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

let me bed rot in peace!! ;c

- Sylvia Plath

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

- The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

forever thinking about every word that sylvia plath has ever spoken and written

girl what's wrong? are you experiencing the sylvia plath fig tree in your head again?

Summer is literally glow up season

I go to the beach every dayy → the salt water helps my oily skin and clears up my acne.

I wear a bunch of sunscreen → my skin is moisturized and protected and I get a cute tan obvii.

I eat a bunch of fruit cuz now it's in season and I walk everywhere → I lose some excess weight.

Watch me go to school in September looking unrecognisable. I love love love summerrrr ⛱️🌞

whatever genre of pictures is this >>

the holy trinity.

she smelled like white roses and felt as fragile and satiny as her dress

Yep

the tumblr and pinterest girlies have made me realize that i am not the only one thinking my silly thoughts and that we all in fact are crazy and share at least a third of our brain cells

The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no further. - the bell jar, Sylvia Plath

:⊹⋆𐙚₊˚ 𝓜𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓰 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹:

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Inspired by Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar", a visual representation of having many desirable life paths. (Inspo under the cut)

I went for a more "me in an au" approach, but this was so much fun to make ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

“I rolled onto my back again and made my voice casual “if you were going to kill yourself, how would you do it?” Cal seemed pleased. “I’ve often thought of that, I’d blow my brains out with a gun” I was disappointed. It was just like a man to do it with a gun.”

The bell Jar. Sylvia Plath.

I just finished reading The bell jar and I feel so lost, the ending was nothing like I expected bc since Joan’s death i didn’t knew what to think so I wasn’t expecting anything tbh. It make me so sad knowing that the bell jar is the only novel of sylvia and that while she was trying to write a second she killed herself

“what did I think it was wrong? that made it sound as if nothing was really wrong, i only thought it was wrong.”

Sylvia Plath. The bell jar.

“I was so intelligent and cynical and yet had such a kind face”

Sylvia Plath. The bell jar.

“I wondered why I couldn't go the whole way doing what I should any more. This made me sad and tired. Then I wondered why I couldn't go the whole way doing what I shouldn't, the way Doreen did, and this made me even sadder and more tired.”

GUYS GUESS WHAT

Jdjdmslskmslamsldoansdndklslasmncmjdmdmslskdjnnffmwlwosjjdmlwlqmsnddbnslwlq

I GAWT 2 BOOKS FROM MY FIRST EVER ATTENDED BOOK FAIR 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

AND GUESS THE BOOKS WJSNMWLSLSLS

ITS PRIDE & PREJUDICE ANDDDDDD THE BELL JAR 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

IM SO HAPPY KSJDMLSLSLALALALSSNSMKAKSKSKSLKAKAKALALSLSLALALSLSKNSNSNSSJJSJ

D'YOU ALL WANNA SEE EM????!!!!

YES THE BELL JAR COVER IS PINK🩷🩷🩷 COZ DUHHHH

I GOT EM BOTH FOR 330 RS TOGETHER🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

I MET MY BESTIE AGAINNNNNN

AND???? WENT OUT TO EAT AND SOCIALISED W 3 MORE PPL 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

IM SO GRATEFUL FOR EVERYTHING 🪷

Everytime i open it after a while of not reading or journaling in it, i get shocked because of the things i wrote 💀

(Not my whisper)

“I can fix her” but this is her:

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar