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Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

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
Golden
Lotuses
Even
Lotus
Amidst
Tombstone
Planted
Fierce
Flames

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Sometimes I nursed starfish alive in jam jars of seawater and watched them grow back lost arms. On this day, this awful birthday of otherness, my rival, somebody else, I flung the starfish against a stone. Let it perish.
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I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
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I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.
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I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
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I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.
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There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get.
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The silence drew off, baring the pebbles and shells and all the tatty wreckage of my life.
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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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Character is fate.
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Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself...the old primitive urge for survival. It's getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity.
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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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