Friday, September 11, 2009

Two of A Kind

I remember the first time I heard about Sylvia Plath. I was online, taking a quiz (I heart quizzes!) called what famous poet do you identify with or something like that. Turns out I identify a lot with Sylvia Plath.

From there I decided to do a research project for English Lit. on her later on. When I did I began to accomulate very interesting info about her. I even saw the movie. By the end of my project (which I got and A freaken plus!) I came to three conclusions. 1. Sylvia had real talent that was unique and inspiring. 2. Sylvia had obvious problems that nobody really wanted to admit that. And 3. Her Husband Ted Hughes, is a bastard.

Syl's husband and poet, Ted was like my first love. Completely unhealthy, uber traumatic, and totally crazy. It was a diaster waiting to happen.

But I admit it wasn't until I started reading Your Own, Sylvia (a biograghy about Syl, written in poetry. Neat, huh?) Well, it wasn't until I read the book that I found simularities between Syl and I. Besides our love of poetry, she also had a sort of need for the oppisote sex. The girl went from one boy to the next, boy-crazy like me. Sylvia was also afraid of the aspect of marriage. She didn't want to settle down, she wanted to write and travel, accomplish her dreams, set out into her future. That's what Sylvia wanted, just like me.

I'm also gradually losing myself, my grasp to sanity slipping as I begin to get older. I can feel it inside me the change of emotions. The strength of them lashing through my body. The cold violence of it all scares the living daylights out of me but what can I do? How can I tell anyone that I'm starting to break down after all these years of being the strong one in my family. How?

The fighting and resentment, the treatening and cursing. There all tearing down my mental walls of stability. Making me crumble with tears and scream with anger, lash out like my mother, after every arguement I get into with my mum or my mum and dad fighting.

I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was, Just like Sylvia.

At times I plead insanity
Feeling like I’m going to crack
Like I’m going to off myself; Like Sylvia Plath
Will He bring mercy on me?