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I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.

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
Exit
Head
Wish
Find

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I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.
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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.
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I have the one person I could ever love in this world. Now I must work to be a person worthy of that.
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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 must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.
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Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.
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I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mini.
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I used to pray to recover you.
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I am still so naïve I know pretty much what I like and dislike but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?
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I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.
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If only a group of people were more important to me than the idea of a Novel, I might begin a novel.
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Is there no way out of the mind?
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Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.
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I talk to God but the sky is empty.
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I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.
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The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.
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Winning or losing an argument, receiving an acceptance or rejection, is no proof of the validity or value of personal identity. One may be wrong, mistaken, or a poor craftsman, or just ignorant - but this is no indication of the true worth of one's total human identity: past, present and future!
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God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
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I need not to be more with others, but to be more & more deeply, richly alone. Recreating worlds.
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