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by Anders Petersen.

I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry.
I didn’t know why I was going to cry,
but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely
the tears would fly out of my eyes
and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week.
I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me
like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 9