The city hung in my window, flat as a poster.

I think this feeling is the one I fear the most—flatness, disconnectedness, being incapable of escaping from my own head. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced. I can only guess at how it would feel. What if one day I couldn’t immerse myself in the world around me and feel better?

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.

SYLVIA PLATH.