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Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

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
Lives
Best
Different
Trying
Like
Fits
Dresses
Fit
Becoming

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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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I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks.
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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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It never occurred to me to say no.
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Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.
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To look at her, you might not guess that inside she is laughing and crying, at her own stupidities and luckiness, and at the strange enigmatic ways of the world which she will spend lifetime trying to learn and understand.
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I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!
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As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
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Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow.
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I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off.
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But everybody has exactly the same smiling frightened face, with the look that says: I'm important. If you only get to know me, you will see how important I am. Look into my eyes. Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.
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Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.
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I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.
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There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.
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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 trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.
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Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
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They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
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