The Yellow Wallpaper
I wasn't insane or crazy or any of the foolish names I was compared to at the start, I simply had had enough of being a pretty face without a voice. I was banned from doing anything active, which involved two of the things I am most passionate about, writing and working. Keeping myself busy was a soothing exercise to distract my mind from the problems of my marriage and social life. My writing was a way to voice my feelings without verbally expressing them. Everybody occasionally has nervous breakdowns, they are a part of life, it is the body finally giving in to the emotions you have been holding in for a long time, all most like taking off the tight corset and changing into a night gown after a long day, in the end, it's relieving. Though once John had admitted me to the room with the yellow paper, something about it bothered me, it was too yellow I guess. Maybe that's why by the end of my journey in the room when John walked in, I was seen as some psychotic woman. Anyone would have had a problem with the wallpaper too, it was too dull but it kept me amused with its pattern, but it had to go. I finally felt free when there wasn't any trace left on the walls, I may have been a little dramatic in trying to strip the paper bit by bit and I probably could have done it more gracefully. John was horrified to see me in the state I was in, if he had of listened to me in the first place and tried to understand my problems I would not have turned out this way. It isn't easy living your life acting like you are a mute, I wanted to be heard, and I wanted to be able to talk to my husband about anything without judgement that I was mentally unstable. Maybe the room did me some good; it gave me the chance to unleash all my demons, set myself free and not hold back anymore. In a long time I felt happy, I don't have to worry about John taking away my rights to write anymore, I am a woman, I have a voice, and nothing can hold me down anymore.