Plath Rant

I like to think that in a past life, I was Slyvia Plath. Silly little Slyvia Plath with her head full of domestic dreams and hopeless romance. Silly little Slyvia Plath with writing talent that could surpass that which the average Joe could ever comprehend. Silly little Slyvia Plath that was better than her husband, better than her kids, better than the life she built around her, and most definitely better than sticking her head in the oven and saying goodbye to life as her children slept in the next room, door padded safely from any deadly gases that may have seeped in. Silly little Slyvia Plath who left it all to that man, her life and even more so her writings. Silly little Slyvia Plath, she rots in her grave while he lives off of her compensation checks. I like to think that in a past life, I was her. I like to think that in my current life, I'm not going to let it happen (again). Silly little Elizabeth Holloway, believing that she's a famous author in a past life. Silly little Elizabeth Holloway, making up for past mistakes of the dead. Silly little Elizabeth Holloway thinking that she can make some sort of impact in her own life. Silly little Elizabeth Holloway, sitting here typing; wondering if fate is sealed to lock her into a similar fate with her uncontrollable and sporadic depression battles, she tells herself she's stronger (or weaker, depends on perception) than that. Slyvia Plath once wrote, "How frail the human heart must be- a mirrored pool of thought" and she was right. We know only what we hear, what we see, we hear others, we see others. We mirror our environments. I mirror Sylvia’s writing, her thoughts. When I first found her writings I was in awe. My writing mirrored hers. Her diaries seemed to parallel my own. But, I'm nowhere near a religious or spiritual soul. Shit, for all I know, I know nothing. I find it impossible for any human to believe that they know the ultimate answers to existence; that there is life after death, that there isn't, that we are reincarnated, that we are not. I believe in the belief that we cannot know until we are there. So no, I don't necessarily believe that I am the fucking reincarnate of Plath, but I don't not believe it either. It's a fun thought though. Or.... Maybe I'm just really really fucking crazy and this rant proves it.