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Dickinson has always been one of my favorite poets, I remember having one of her books of poetry as a kid (of course these were her happy poems because the book was meant for kids) now that I'm older and read her dark stuff I like her even more to be honest.
It's pretty easy for me to understand because there have been plenty of times in my life where I've wanted to isolate myself like that, in the sense of no physical contact with someone, but writing to other people all of the time. (*cough*forums*cough*) I can see myself in her because I share her eccentricities, just not as severely.
As for my friend? Well I can't get into her head, but I know she has little to no tolerance for that kind of stuff to begin with.
She gave me a picture of Dickinson looking sad with the caption: "Emily Dickinson: Socially unacceptable even in modern times." it's pretty sad but it's also kind of true.
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain
by: Emily Dickinson
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –
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