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I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

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
Feminism
Classic
Destroy
Desire
Ends
Things

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I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.
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She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.
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I felt wise and cynical as all hell.
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God has to remind us this isn't heaven by a long shot, so he increases the radios and lethal flies.
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I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.
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And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
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I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.
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A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage.
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I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
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I am made, crudely, for success.
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It was sometime in October she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.
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I want to kill myself, to escape from responsiblity, to crawl abjectly back into the womb.
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