I watched Sylvia Tuesday night (Gwyneth was outstanding, but I have reservations about praising the rest of the construction of the film). It was after an emotionally traumatic evening (having to do with academics and life goals) and my reaction to it was much more intense than it would normally have been.
I said afterwards that I knew “that girl” (being Sylvia), she was someone back home I interacted with in high school. The truth was (and Earl called me on this later) I am that girl. I didn’t feel comfortable quantifying myself with her, but I could relate strongly. I think anyone who has ever dealt with depression would. The characteristic signs of a breakdown... the rocking back and forth, the paranoia- it runs in my family. It’s been a long time since I could honestly say I resembled what we watched, but it still heavily resonates in my mind. I wrote the following in reflection of my feelings on the matter and decided it’s time to actually post some of my own poetry here.
For Sylvia Plath
Perhaps it’s because I was scared today
(more so terrified of my own melodrama)
So I couldn’t look you in the eye
(besides, mine were red and blood shot)
So I let you weep
And gently mocked you in my mind
And let you stay that way
I hear this tends to happen when you are fighting for your life
Tear at one who might know
For fear of them shredding any remaining thread
Left in the emotional fortitude of your emotional tent
Paying your emotional rent… the debt for your right to own these eyes