The Yellow Wallpaper
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North American (General)Transcript
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John is a physician, and perhaps I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind. Perhaps that is one reason I do not get well faster. You see, he does not believe I am sick. And what can one dio if a physician of high standing and one's own husband assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression? Ah, slight, hysterical tendency. What is one to do? My brother is also a physician and also of high standing, and he says the same thing. So I take phosphates or false fights, whichever it ISS and tonics and journeys and air and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to work until I am well again. Personally, I disagree with their ideas. Personally, I believe that congenial work with excitement and change would do me good. But what is one to do? I did write for a while in spite of them, but it does exhaust me a good deal, having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition. I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus. But John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad. So I will let it alone and talk about the house the most beautiful place. It is quite alone, standing well back from the road quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English places that you read about. For there are hedges and walls and gates that Locke and lots of separate little houses for gardeners and people, there is a delicious garden. I never saw such a garden large and shady, full of fox, boarded pass and lined with long, great covered arbors with seats under them. Their greenhouses too. They're all broken now. There was some legal trouble. I believe something about the heirs and co heirs. Anyhow, the place has been empty for years. That spoils my ghostly nous, I'm afraid, but I don't care. There s something strange about the house. I can feel it. I even said so to John when moonlit evening. But he said what I felt was a draft and shut the window I get quite unreasonably angry with John. Sometimes I'm sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition, but John says if I feel so, I shall neglect proper self control. So I take pains to control myself before him, at least, and that makes me very tired.