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Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.

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
Night
Laid
Curse
Dawn
Dawns
Depression
Sirens
Illness
Alarms
Tomorrow
Nights
Longer
Bells
Hell
Earlier

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I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
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Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?
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I don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.
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Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
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My worst habit is my fear & my destructive rationalizing.
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A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
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I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
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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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They would grow old. They would forget me.
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That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. Save them for my funeral, I'd said.
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I am flushed and warm. I think I may be enormous, I am so stupidly happy, My wellingtons Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.
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And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.
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Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.
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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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You smile. No, it is not fatal.
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