The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume 1
Page 29
Eddie wrote me a letter* answering my last one about how his immoral ways were responsible for his unhappiness. I was in a careless mood when I wrote to him, & evidently hurt the poor guy’s masculine pride, because his last letter was definitely chilly – e.g. “I still think you’re a great girl, but far from perfect. If you were perfect you wouldn’t be writing me!” Oh, well, maybe I wouldn’t.
It’s snowing now for the first time in weeks, and I feel sort of odd – a little homesick, I guess. It was such a relief to go back and feel the responsibility slide off my shoulders on to my family’s. I realize now, though, that mother can’t be the refuge that she was before, and that hit me hard. The reason why I hate the idea of growing up, I guess, is subconsciously (how Eddie would love this!) because I want to remain a child and be sheltered from accepting the responsibility of things like earning a living, cooking, and taking care of myself. I’m so scatterbrained in that regard that it is a mental effort to remember to wash my underwear – to bring in a practical note. I also shy away from making decisions and thinking about what I’m good for – which I am convinced, isn’t much. Oh, well, enough of that!
I’m sure that when spring comes life will again brighten! After all, you can’t do more than make the most of what you’ve got. The shock I got when I went home was mainly this: My mother’s purpose in life is to see me & my brother “happy and fulfilled.” And I can’t cry on her shoulder any more when things go wrong. I’ve got to pretend to her that I am all right & doing what I’ve always wanted . . . and she’ll feel her slaving at work has been worthwhile. But it’s an awful job to drag myself back here when I don’t give a damn about dates, or much else right now. I went through an awfully black mood during vacation, but now that I am in the routine again, having to do my notebook, etc., I’m not quite so close to going utterly and completely mad. I am convinced that if you face yourself and admit what’s wrong, you can gradually build up a philosophy of life, or your purpose in it, or something, and be reasonably jolly. It’s worth trying, even if you think no one is capable of understanding your problem or anything.
Oh, Davy, if only I knew what’s happened to you and gone on in your head since I left you, I’d be able to say something that might possibly reach you. If you’re sick, I hope you’re better. If you’re even thinking or rationalizing about not bothering to make the trip East again, you know what you want, but gosh, it sure hurts me to believe you would desert this damn place – me included. Because I think you’re one of the most admirable characters I’ve ever met.
Do let me know how things are.
I’ve got my fingers crossed.
Love,
Sylvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 9 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday
Dear Mother –
Well, the two hardest days in the week are over, and I am so glad I didn’t have to take gym today & yesterday. It was a welcome relief. I really was not trying to reassure you (you suspicious thing!) in my last letter, but I am much better. My head is at last clear, and I am taking vitamins regularly. I did my self the favor of washing my hair tonight, as it has hung in black, greasy little ringlets on my neck for the past few days. Did I ever tell you what I got on that 4th Eng. paper I vowed I’d put my heart & soul on? A-! It must have killed the man to give it to me, but I would have made a fuss if he hadn’t. I sure deserved at least that. I hardly can believe that my first exam is in only two weeks! Ugh! I went over to supper with Sydney Webber* – a lovely girl in my history class who is extremely talented in dramatics. She’s a sweet person.
See you soon,
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 10 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Wednesday
Dear Mum –
Another day draws to a close. I had my “check-up” today & was pronounced in good condition – which I am. I am once more eating like a pig. I have a 15 page source theme* due in English before exams, and consequently feel rather frustrated. I’m doing T. Mann, as we had to take someone we knew quite well, and feel so hopeless when I realize how much reading I should do & want to do to really understand him, and how much reading I actually can do with my other subjects also clamoring for attention. I agree completely with Mrs. Koffka (hist.) who says there is no time for pleasure reading which is all-important. I hate skimming the surface, but would like leisure to delve into my favorite subjects. I got a sweet scrawly letter from Bob Humphrey today in answer to my apology for New Years Eve. I really don’t know what I’d do if I had more than three exams. I just hope I can swing these all right.
Love to you & grammy –
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 11 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday –
Dear Mum –
Well, in two weeks from today I’ll be home, studying madly for exams. I think the change of scenery will do me good. Almost everyone is going home the weekend after exams, but I’m just glad I’ll be here to rest up and enjoy the House for those two precious days between semesters. I spent from 2-5 in the art lab again today just doing the days assignments. It’s amazing how fast the time flies by when I’m up there. As for health, I’m doing fine. We have house meeting again tonight – and it usually runs till twelve, so I will sleep till ten tomorrow morning. (I hope.) It’s really wonderful to be able to do that at the end of the week, when I am feeling a bit weary. I hope you are really resting now – and I do like your cards. I wrote Ann but haven’t heard a word from her. I miss her terribly.
Love
Sivvy
TO Ann Davidow-Goodman
c. Friday 12 January 1951*
ALS, Smith College
Friday night 8:30 pm
Dear Ann –
I have just finished catching up on my letter-writing, and I wanted to save you till the last, so I could take my time. I am alone in my room at the desk, and I have been having a good little cry and feeling very sorry for myself. You – damn it, are the cause. I got your letter today and Eddie can go to blazes! I never read anything that hit me so hard. There is a moon out – (I’ve got the blind up as usual) and I keep saying “Oh, Davy” and feeling sorrier & sorrier for me, selfish kid that I am.
The thing is, you will probably have a hell of a good time at home in art school (are you living there, and where is it?) seeing Jim* (Helène* told me you were pinned* – trust you to keep me in the dark!) You probably will get so damn happy living there that you wouldn’t come back here come hell or high water. And that’s it. I should be Christian & say “She’ll be O.K. What more do I want?” But no. I sit here with my life going up in smoke. Dust & ashes. I feel like someone just yanked the life-preserver out from under me & left me treading water in the middle of the Atlantic. I am so lonely. I really haven’t got a close friend now that you’re gone. Diana,* Reggie* & Maureen* are off in their superior little gathering, laughing sugarily and making little insinuating remarks which get under my skin now that you’re not around. Blanton* is getting to be a socialite and in with the upperclassmen. Bobby Michelsen* & Betsy Whittemore are O.K. but one never says a word and the other is hopelessly juvenile. Callie* is as popular as ever, and so is Teedie – but I’m not strong enough to match their ever-present wit without someone to help me. Carol is sweet, and Brownie is even nicer,* but they’ll be rooming together till kingdom comes. And that leaves me – high & dry. I almost wish I’d never met you – so I wouldn’t feel so empty. What made me sparky & giddy was the friction of us two banging together & giving off electricity. Now I feel so horribly lonely. No one can balance me emotionally except you – no one else can make my heavy end of the seesaw come up into position. And this single room is so lonely. If only you could have roomed with me next year I would have had something to look forward to. But now I
feel only a let-down. It is so awful to have found someone (I’m the type who has only a few close friends – if any) and then lost them. I wish you everything but I’m not going to pretend to be jolly about your depriving me of the one thing that made this house worthwhile. There is no one, now. No one at all. I think more of you than anyone, Davy. So does Hèlene. It was so terrific having you there to spill over to.
Your letter came with a letter from SEVENTEEN saying I had won 3rd prize in the short story contest, $100. Maybe I’m silly, but if I’d had you to scream to about it, it would have been something. You know how much it could mean. But now I’m not even proud. I have no one to share it with – who understands. It is almost ironic that it should have come with your letter. The editor wished me “success.” What the hell do I care about artificial black & white “success” if I haven’t got a soul but my own perplexed self to talk to? God, Davy, I can’t say how I miss you. I’m even beginning to bawl again. So few people really care. So many would draw back with a polite “How nice.” And that’s what kills me. They really are mad that anything nice has happened, and can’t take it. So I keep it, to myself – and it hurts. I can’t go around telling people how terrific I am, because I can’t believe it. Blanton has talked herself into thinking she’s pretty & popular. It took a while & a lot of talk, but now, damn it, she is. But I don’t believe I’m any good. You made me think I might have something.
This letter is the sweariest one I’ve ever written. I need so to love a person – be it girl or boy, friend or enemy. And without being able to, I sort of dry up.
Heck, don’t start feeling sorry for me, even if this letter has been awfully pitiful. I’ll write news, & you do the same. I love you, Davy. I love your mother. She’s one of the finest, most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Tell her hello for me.
Bye, baby,
your
Sylvy*
(not to be confused with
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 13 January 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Dear Mother –
Well, outside of your card, today’s mail brought two shocks---one pleasant and one not so pleasant. Ann Davidow wrote me a letter that made me want to cry. She’s not coming back – this year, anyway. She’s going to art school at home for the rest of the time. You don’t quite know what her letter did to me; I was sick. She was the one person in these two houses that I could have wholeheartedly roomed with; she is the one real friend I have yet run across up here. I love my single room, but it gets so lonely coming in and having no one to look up & greet me or to ask where I’ve been . . . no one to wash socks with or anything. And I was so looking forward to rooming with someone congenial---whom I could really admire and spill over to. I’m sure that would be a good thing for me. But as it is, I like the girls in the house (freshmen) but couldn’t room with any of them, because I could never completely be myself . . . or write in that journal of mine without having to justify myself.
I am a bit tired of having some upperclassmen say insinuatingly “I’d rather flunk out & be sociable than stick up in my room all the time.” Of course I have to go to bed early (by 11) and I can’t play bridge (which I must learn before next year – maybe the whole family can pick it up this summer.)
As Mr. Loungway said “Conform in the little things.” I really have to, as I don’t in other big things. But I’ve got to work---and I don’t mind, but you see, if I had a roommate who liked to study we’d be “sticking in our room” together, and I wouldn’t be quite so lonesome at times. You don’t know how it is without Ann. I loved her so! I feel as if someone just yanked the life preserver out from under me, & I’m left treading water rather futiley.
I was so pleased to hear about your dress! I will approve of it when I come home during vacation between exams.
I got so preoccupied about bewailing Ann’s deserting me, as it were, that I didn’t have time to sprinkle on the best news. You no doubt wondered what that Special Delivery letter* from our favorite magazine was about. I can picture you feeling how thick it was and holding it up to the light. Well, don’t get too excited, ’cause it’s only a third prize, but it does mean $100 (one hundred) in cold cold cash. Seriously, I’m kind of dazed – I did love Den of Lions and Emile’s name sure worked as a lucky piece. It seems my love affairs always get into print---only I doubt if anyone will recognize this one. This time I’ve got to get a good photograph---or snapshot. I’ll bring home the documents to be signed when I come home in a week & ½. Could you have that old role of film developed? It would save expense if I had a good snapshot of myself on it.
Honestly, mother – can’t you see it now? An illustration for it and everything? I’ll show you the letter from the editor (very conventional and seventeenish & “hope you have a long, successful career,” etc.) when I see you. I’m dying to see what got 1st & 2nd prize.* Oh, well, you can’t always hit the top! But Clem’s mother better watch out. I’ll be Sarah-Elizabeth Rogering* her out of business in no time.
Love,
Your Sivvy
P.S. Am seriously thinking of spending a few days in New York this spring la-de-dah!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Saturday 13 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sat am
Dear Mum . . .
By rights this card should be read after my letter, although you probably are looking at it first as the most easily accessible source of news. At any rate, I feel much better now about things in general. I spent a while talking with Marcia Brown, a very nice freshman on the first floor, and after I came upstairs two girls dropped in. It’s amazing how talking with people can make one feel easier. As for the news of my story – you probably wondered why I wasn’t more exhilarated in the letter. The truth was that the realization didn’t hit me till about 12 last night, as a result of which I couldn’t sleep till after 2, but lay in bed giving little screams of joy – I’m rather grateful for being one of 3 3rd prizes!* Guy called up, so I’m going to a movie with him tonight. I have to write a whole source theme this weekend & the 2 books I need I can only have Sunday morning till two – they’re on reserve. Wish me luck –
Love,
your sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 14 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sun A.M.
Dear Mother –
It is 9:30, and I am spending the rest of the morning reading & taking hurried notes in the only 2 books on Mann the libe has, for by popular demand they will be due back in three hours. I spent all yesterday afternoon in the art studio doing a still life assignment. It’s the first thing I’ve been really excited about in that class. At last we had a chance to transpose some of our exercizes into real forms. Patsy was such a dear about my story & insisted on treating me to a dinner at Wiggins. I haven’t had such a lovely supper for quite some time. She’s the sweetest friend I know. Saw “All About Eve”* with Guy after I got back, & was in bed & asleep by 12:15, which is better than the usual 2 AM of most Saturday nights. Wish me luck on my source theme.
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
c. Sunday 14 January 1951*
ALS, Indiana University
Dear Mum –
Here’s the stuff about the insurance – better write right away!
Lovely warm crisp weather here now. I told Pat about my 100 dollar prize & realized the fruits of true friendship.
She made me feel so wonderful. Sharing is half the fun – if you know the answer isn’t just politely envious enthusiasm!
Love you –
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 15 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Monday
Dear Mum –
Today is
one of those Monday mornings when the weather is in complete accord. It snowed last night, and then rained. The result is that the air is thick with an unwholesome gray mist, and slush and brown water ooze all over the streets. Unfortunately I must take gym today – and the next – and the next, so my afternoons will be pretty well shot. And history will have to be done from 7-10 at night in the libe, leaving me little time for much else. By dint of taking hurried notes all yesterday morning, of organizing them in the afternoon and writing like fury till eleven last night I finished writing the first draft of my source theme which, as you may imagine, is a load off my mind. The only thing is, it’s mostly one big quote, so I’ll have to pad it with my own mouthings, such as they are, to make it look more digested –
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 16 January 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday
Dear Mum –
It is now 12 P.M., and I have been working like fury since 7:30 typing my 11 page source theme. I am done at last, and if I do say so, it’s a beautiful typewriting job. I think even you couldn’t find too much fault with it! I am very happy, in spite of feeling tired, and in the midst of this chaos of work. I have made a schedule of my week till next Wed, mapping out studying very carefully. After my Botany test on Thursday, things should let up, since I can sleep Fri, Sat, & Sun. until 10 a.m., giving me time to get rested. I have four practically Free days till my Fr. exam & so will kick myself if I don’t do all right. My average in Botany is: in the 2 exams 96 & 91 In quizzes, which count 50% of mark – a-, a, a+, a+, 100%. History I dread – map is important. Should see Bob Humphrey while home – so maybe could get ski pants as he wants to teach me how –
Love –
Your very own me!
So nice to talk with you!!!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath