charlotte bronte? kind of a bitch.
In the afternoon; Miss Ellen Lister was trigonometrically oecumenical about her French lessons. She nearly killed me between the violence of the irritation her horrid willfulness excited and the labour it took to subdue it to a moderate appearance of calmness.


I came back
Abyme to the last degree, for Miss L[ister] and Miss M[arriot]t had been boring me with their vulgar familiar trash all the time we were out. If those girls knew how I loathe their company, they would not seek mine so much as they do.

("All this day I have been in a dream," untitled manuscript)

menial jobs are crap, and sure, i hate children too...but damn, baby.

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