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So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.

Sylvia Plath

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Sylvia Plath
Age: 30 †
Born: 1932
Born: October 27
Died: 1963
Died: February 11
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Victoria Lucas
Sylvia Plath Hughes
State
Totalitarian
True
Afterward
States
Numb
Children
Began
Think
Slave
Thinking
Married
Like
Went
Maybe
Brainwashed

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I was my own woman. The next step was to find the proper sort of man.
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…'It always has to end, doesn't it? We always have to separate.' 'Yes,' I said. He was insistent, 'But it doesn't always have to be that way. We could be together some day for always.' 'Oh, no,' I told him, wondering if he knew it was all over. 'We keep running till we die. We separate, get further apart, till we are dead.
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..I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
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I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise with these cries from the heart that are informed by nothing except a needle or a knife, or whatever it is.
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I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
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Dancing is the normal prelude to intercourse.
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Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.
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I feel that very strongly: having been an academic, having been tempted by the invitation to stay on to become a Ph.D., a professor, and all that, one side of me certainly does respect all disciplines, as long as they don't ossify.
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I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
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A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.
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I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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I felt the first man I slept with must be intelligent, so I could respect him.
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But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defenseless that I couldn't do it.
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Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.
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If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.
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I collect men with interesting names.
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I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.
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I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak.
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I used to pray to recover you.
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It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are Catholic. I can't see their beliefs, but I can see the things they love to do on earth. When you come right down to it, I do believe in the freedom of the individual.
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