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See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

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
Leaking
Contain
Cracks
Darkness
Cannot
Life

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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 knew chemistry would be worse, because I'd seen a big card of the ninety-odd elements hung up in the chemistry lab, and all the perfectly good words like gold and silver and cobalt and aluminum were shortened to ugly abbreviations with different decimal numbers after them.
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I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead I lift my eyes and all is born again.
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What I didn't say was that each time I picked up a German dictionary or a German book, the very sight of those dense, black, barbed-wire letters made my mind shut like a clam.
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God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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You are a dream I hope I never meet you.
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A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
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We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.
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I must get my soul back from you I am killing my flesh without it.
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Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.
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God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
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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 have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
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The blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain.
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I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.
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Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
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I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrifying, like madness, being tortured...with an informed and intelligent mind.
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And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.
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I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.
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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.
Sylvia Plath