mirror, mirror

I am delving for the first time into Sylvia Plath. I had read "Daddy" and have known of her to be a feminist must read. A dark, disturbed, unsettled soul that put itself out of misery. However, my creative writing professors kept her from me. The pushed me towards Sharon Olds instead. The Bell Jar alluded to why they might do that. I saw my semantics and lexicon in hers. I thought I also saw more. The reflection seemed odd staring back up at me from the page, as if it were something I may have written 55 years ago. Thanks to Bridget for sending me this link http://archive.salon.com/books/feature/2000/05/30/plath1/index2.html to confirm my suspicions that this woman is this woman in a different life, with a different husband, kids, life. I don't know now whether to be terrified or just exuberant. I do think the differences make all the difference, and that they have murdered my muse.