The Yellow Wallpaper :: essays research papers

It must be about 3 a.m. I am laid up in this infirmary with breast cancer writing about my life. I was married to a doctor, God rests his soul, still men in my days were non fun to be with. I had a depression problem and I believe he was more burdensome than the depression itself. There was a time when I conscionable had a baby, I became very depressed, and my husband said it would do me well to get fresh air. I, the woman of the times, wanted to get better and I believe my husband, and had no other way. So he took me out in the country, and I mostly stayed in this beautiful house that had become my prison with one get on in particular. It was there that I realized nobody was listening to me, I had become everyones burden, and my own burdens were not to be hear of. After all, how could I possibly have any, I was given daily baths and massages, I was not to look after my baby at all. I was feed breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was told not to write it was most forbidden of it. The y believed writing excited a woman too much such a thing was not to be heard of. In that 1880s time a woman was to tend to her husband and the house hold. The room that I stayed in had the most absurd wallpaper. It was yellow, and it some areas it was faded or torn. I despised the wallpaper, but my dear husband said, "My love if I fix the wall paper then it testament be something else I will have to fix. So this is part of your therapy. You must get used to it."After a while it pull inmed as if the wallpaper began to reach out at me art my name. It seemed like a woman was trapped inside the walls. I thought to myself, "I must free her." And night I would wake up, and I would see her watching me. At first I was afraid, but now it seems as if we have become one. I watch her crawling around out in the yard from time to time desperately looking for freedom. I wanted so bad to free her, but how could I. I wanted to ask her, but how? Maybe she doesnt want this freedom I believe she so deserves.