Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (1830 – 1886) was an American poet born in Massachusetts. ———————————————————————
Dickinson studied briefly at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before leaving early, donning a super chic, minimalist white wardrobe and shunning small talk with boring people cos she was way to busy writing badass poetry in her room.
Called a recluse by some, and eccentric by others, Emily Dickinson was known locally as “The Myth” (a name which is now my life’s mission to acquire) ———————————————————————
Emily never married and preferred to keep her friends as penpals. She wrote furiously, yet only a few of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime. After Emily died, her sister followed orders and burned all of her correspondence. When she found her secret cache of poetry, however, she decided to publish them giving us the wealth of writing we have today. —-———————————————————————
Emily's sexuality has been a source of debate for decades, so I will just leave this extract of a letter here and let you form your own opinion —
“Susie, forgive me Darling, for every word I say — my heart is full of you, none other than you is in my thoughts, yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me. If you were here — and Oh that you were, my Susie, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us, and your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language —
Dear Susie, I have tried hard to think what you would love, of something I might send you — I at last say my little Violets, they begged me to let them go, so here they are —
I add a kiss, shyly, lest there is somebody there! Don’t let them see, will you Susie?" Yeah, I thought you’d agree.