Artemis ’s Reviews > The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath > Status Update

I am making pitiful progress through this. 'What avail are good looks? To grab temporary security? What avail are brains? Merely to say "I have seen; I have comprehended?" Ah yes, I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me.' This is like reading my 16-18 y.o. diaries. Is this real life?