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She's talking about herself in the third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take.
-Sarah Kane
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She's Talking About Herself In The Third

Sarah Kane
She's talking about herself in the third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take.
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Pride Talking Ideas

More From Sarah Kane

She bent her finger and then straightened it. the mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between not moving and moving, when her intention took effect. it was like a wave breaking. if she could only find herself at the crest, she thought, she might find the secret of herself, that part of her that was really in charge. she brought her forefinger closer to her face and stared at it, urging it to move. it remained still because she was pretending... . and when she did crook it finally, the action seemed to start in the finger itself, not in some part of her mind.
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Perhaps i will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. if she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters ... but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing.
Song Lying Grief
How was it that he haunted her imagination so persistently? what could it be? why did she care for what he thought, in spite of all her pride in spite of herself? she believed that she could have borne the sense of almighty displeasure, because he knew all, and could read her penitence, and hear her cries for help in time to come. but mr.thornton-why did she tremble, and hide her face in the pillow? what strong feeling had overtaking her at last?
Strong Pride Imagination
They'd had fun, for sure. they laughed and enjoyed being together. but if she was painfully honest with herself, something was missing. something in the way tim looked at her. she remembered her mom's word. "i saw the way he looked at you...he adores you." maybe that was it. tim looked at her on a surface level. he smiled and seemed happy to see her. but when cody looked at her, there were no layers left, nothing her didn't reveal, nothing he couldn't see. he didn't really look at her so much as he looked into her. to the deepest, most real places in her heart and soul.
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There was a warmth of fury in his last phrases. he meant she loved him more than he her. perhaps he could not love her. perhaps she had not in herself that which he wanted. it was the deepest motive of her soul, this self-mistrust. it was so deep she dared neither realise nor acknowledge. perhaps she was deficient. like an infinitely subtle shame, it kept her always back. if it were so, she would do without him. she would never let herself want him. she would merely see.
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Somebody/ anybody sing a black girl's song bring her out to know herself to know you but sing her rhythms carin/ struggle/ hard times sing her song of life she's been dead so long closed in silence so long she doesn't know the sound of her own voice her infinite beauty she's half-notes scattered without rhythm/ no tune sing her sighs sing the song of her possibilities sing a righteous gospel let her be born let her be born & handled warmly.
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