Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams - Sylvia Plath

“His lyrical whistle beckoned me to adventure and forgetting. 
But I didn't want to forget. 
Hugging my grudge, ugly and prickly, a sad sea urchin, I trudged off on my own, in the opposite direction toward the forbidding prison. 
As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin; I am I. That stone is a stone. 
My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over. "