I guess Woody Allen was right on some things after all, this phrase always stuck with me because it's wrong just as much as it is right. When she died, she left behind what sometimes i think was her last piece of poetry, "Please call Dr. Horder", which were probably the most mystifying words she'd ever conjure, especially because they were followed by an uninterrupted silence.
You could say her death is seen as romantic by girls because of the doomed imagery of it all: the unrecognized spirit of a poetess, trapped in the body of a housewife, merges with the physical element that represents her prison, the oven. She sticks her head inside, trapping all of her thoughts that make her an outlier. But I feel like the romance of it all actually lies on the uncertainty of her intent… the space for speculation allows one to mirror their own dilemmas and hurting onto her pain. It’s said that her suicide was an act of irrational desperation, with the intention of being reversed. They say she hoped to be saved in time, and though the truth will hardly ever be known, sometimes I think it’s this “what if” that we all romanticize a bit. Sometimes I think that if Sylvia had hope even when she was dying, I can linger on to mine.
So yes, I am a college girl who in a way romanticizes the suicide, but I don’t think looking for the silver lining there would necessarily be misinterpreting it…
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