And C. doesn’t have any notion of being safe with someone one loves in order to be freer (from anxiety, from love starvation) to do something else specifically, to fulfill one’s projects. (I’m sure Beatrice knows about this.) Once again, she doesn’t have any projects. There is no activity of a public nature – except perhaps the creation of her personal appearance: her clothes, etc. – in which she feels herself competent, or even imagines that she typically, self-indulgently, irresponsibly becomes competent. Her lack of self-love, of self-esteem is so great that she wouldn’t consider valuable any activity in which she was competent – and, certainly, it prevents her from trying responsibly to gain competence in any activity she does admire.

– Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980


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