"The damage done was total. She spent her days, her tendril, sap-green days, walking up and down, up and down, her head jerking to the beat of a drummer so distant only she could hear. Elbows bent, hands on shoulders, she flailed her arms like a bird in an eternal, grotesquely futile effort to fly. Beating the air, a winged but grounded bird, intent on the blue void it could not reach-could not even see-but which filled the valleys of the mind."
This exert, as well as the entirety of the novel, has been an emotional roller coaster for me. This book is one of few that has changed my perception of the world, and this paragraph offered a range of dismal emotions for myself.
In this passage, we witness the future Pecola, I had to look up the definition of a tendril, which is illustrated below.

The moment I saw an image of a tendril, I couldn't help but relate the endless curls of the plant with Pecola's life. Walking back and forth in an infinite cycle, Pecola lives a life of emptiness and lack of love. Consequentially, she is both mentally and physically drained. I disconvered the most grieving instance when Morrison describes Pecola as a bird that fails to fly. Pecola, who has always wanted to be beautiful, who yearns to have blue eyes, but is raped and shunned from society, is incapable of escaping the judgement and racism of others. She is unable to achieve her "blueness," her beauty, and while she has wings, she is grounded. Her life was not set to fail, but her circumstances and society's loathing of blacks lead to her downfall. And although none of her oppression was her own fault, the hatred that whites have for blacks and the self-hatred that the blacks have of themselves lead Pecola to become a flightless bird who has no one to love and support her.