Remembering a Mad Girl

Sylvia Plath died on this day in 1963. And at first glance, she miiight not be the best person in the world to over-identify with. What with the whole oven incident.

But she was first person I read that accurately described the constant insatiability, the hunger and curiosity, the unquenchable need to write and write and write, the restlessness.

The first time you realize that you aren't alone in your craziness is a profound moment. And one that I'll always associate with the Mad Girl.

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am."

“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and 

physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.” 

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.” 

“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.” 

“If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.” 

“I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.” 

“I want to be important. By being different. And these girls are all the same.” 

“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?”