“But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist

“But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn't do it.

It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb,

but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar.