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I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.

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
Made
Went
Drank
Think
Powerful
Stomach
Thinking
Lasts
Alcohol
Like
Last
Began
Didn
Straight
Anything
Drinking
Godlike
Feel
Taste
Vodka
Feels
Drink
Sword

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At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.
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I hurl my heart to halt his pace.
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It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)
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I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I'm so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily.
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A fierce brief fusion which dreamers call real, and realists, an illusion an insight like the flight of birds.
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Frustrated? Yes. Why? Because it is impossible for me to be God — or the universal woman-and-man — or anything much. I am what I feel and think and do. I want to express my being as fully as I can because I somewhere picked up the idea that I could justify my being alive that way.
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If there's anything I look down on, it's a man in a blue outfit.
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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
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I used to pray to recover you.
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I am I-I am powerful, but to what extent? I am I.
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Talking about my fears to others feeds it.
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But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.
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