More handpicked essays just for you.
An essay on the mirror by sylvia plath
An essay on the mirror by sylvia plath
An essay on the mirror by sylvia plath
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: An essay on the mirror by sylvia plath
“It’s …coming…from…the…mirror,” Breanna stated as her voice slowly forced itself out between her chapped colorless lips allowing itself to be heard. She looked up at me and through the dimmed room I could make out her soft teary blue eyes. I began to feel really bad about allowing her to come when I knew how dangerous places like this are. I was soon jerked out of my thinking when a cold gust of wind blew between me and the mirror. “I know.” I replied nodding my head in favor of her statement. Although everything sane about me said to bolt out the front door and find the cops I stayed, and willed every ounce of my devotion to giving everything I had to find Alex and Grey. I knew Bree wanted to leave so instead of upsetting her and giving
For most everybody in the world, people tend to have two identities: one in reality and one online. Andrew Lam wrote an essay, called “I Tweet, Therefore I am: Life in the Hall of Mirrors”, in which he described how people are posting videos or statuses which is making social media take a turn. Instead of social media being a place to share very little information, people are now tending to post weird updates. Lam was describing an example where a boy that was going to surgery asked to have his picture taken because his arm got taken off by an alligator. Another example is when Bill Nye was speaking and collapsed from exhaustion. Most of the crowd took their phones out and recorded videos instead of helping Bill Nye out (540-541). With the power of the internet at everyone’s fingertips, most everyone is trying to make the most of it. With all
Well, my escape plan failed. I was able to escape to the woods but later that evening I realized I could never make the long journey alone in the woods with no food or water.
Society has always judged its inhabitants for its outwards appearance; not taking in to consideration how a person has a deeper part to them. When just taking the superficial into consideration, we find ourselves looking at the blemishes and not the beauty. Judgment is thrown on those whom get old, although they cannot halt times effects. Judging those that were born with defects mental or physical that are portrayed in their visible areas. All these individualities are read into more than they should be. A mirror, on the other hand, shows what is standing in front of it and nothing else. Sylvia Plath’s poem Mirror does expresses the defects within society that judges those for their presence, it will lie to make a person’s thoughts of their appearance get altered, and that a mirror is clear looking at one with what can be compared with a gods eye; perfect, but even though the mirror sees one as unadulterated time still passes.
The patient was more beautiful than she realized. If only she could see it for herself. The color from her dainty face had drained to a sickened green tint and her eyes widened in fear. The walls of the clinic exam room were ordained in calming colors, but offered the young woman no comfort. She continued to blink rapidly as if she would awaken from the nightmare; her long eyelashes could not fan the health worker’s words away. She thought it was harmless, just a night of fun. It made her feel valuable and attractive. Yet being desired now left her alone, crumpling to the floor screaming between sobs and desperately reaching to the empty air around her. She couldn’t grasp any security. Not only did that harmless night of fun result in her becoming
I saw Jaclyn running past where I was hiding. “Jaclyn!” I whispered, “Come over here!” She looked startled from the sound of my voice, but once she realized it was me, we hid together. A street light was flickering a few yards away, we could see anyone who was near
She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over...
May I come in?" a female voice responded from the other side. Clary was pleasantly surprised at how warm and gentle the voice was, well whoever it belonged too. Quickly rising to her feet, she walked over towards the door, not before catching sight of herself in the tall mirror above the vanity. The girl staring back was complete mess! Her once bright green eyes were full of sadness, and her red hair was matted, tangled, and had knots in it, while her skin was covered in dust and grime. She was indeed need of a much-needed
As she sits in the darkness her eyes begin to scan the room from right to left. Unknowingly she sits down and begins to contemplate on what just happened. She says to herself quietly, “Did that just happen?”
Without seeing her, I knew what she was doing. I knew that she was sitting in front of the mirror again, seeing my back, which had had time to reach the depths of the mirror and be caught by her look, which had also had just enough time to reach the depths and return--before the hand had time to start the second turn--until her lips were anointed now with crimson, from the first turn of her hand in front of the mirror. I saw, opposite me, the smooth wall, which was like another blind mirror in which I couldn't see her sitting behind me, but could imagine her where she probably was, as if a mirror had been hung in place of the wall. "I see you," I told her. And on the wall I saw what was as if she had raised her eyes and had seen me with my back turned toward her from the chair, in the depths of the mirror, my face turned toward the wall.
She reached her hands up to her eyes to wipe away the sleep. She twisted to stretch her back, feeling the soreness of falling after running into Caesar. She replayed the conversation that they had yesterday. Caesar was lying, she knew how much he needed her. At Caesar's other life he was abused and he had just recently gotten out of depression. If she left and she set him into a backward spiral she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. Noticing the late time, she pulled herself out of her thoughts and lazily pushed away the rough, vintage comforter and tiptoed across the cold wooden floor over to Ben's bed. She shook him awake trying to be gentle as he awoke softy to reveal his chocolate brown eyes. Ben let out a soft groan and rolled
looked at it so long I think it is part of my heartâ?¦Faces and darkness
Tears were nothing new to the girl, and she ignored them, tossing back the last of the aspirin left in the bathroom. Black swam across her vision as the multitude of pills began to take effect. A wave of anger and fear crashed over her, and before she could second guess it, the glass bottle was shattering against the wall. Fragments rained to the floor, mixing with yellow plastic and discarded notes. Slender fingers stretched out, grasping the floor for the perfect piece to satisfy her final craving for scarlet. The silence around her smothered the last lingering hopes that someone, anyone, would care enough to just come home, and with a final agonizing cry, she dragged the shard of glass down her forearm.
Closing her eyes, Alison inhaled, concentrating; feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of passing through and emerging from a wall of water, she opened her eyes. She was no longer in her chambers; rather she was on a rocky crater, devoid of any life except for her and another. A few feet away the Other stood. Though the shadow from his hooded-cape hid his face, she could tell that he was even less pleased with her than usual.
Protect the Innocent om! Are we going? Yes, Stephanie we’re going. Why must you do this each Saturday? Maybe I’m hoping we won’t go each Saturday.
Turning directly toward Nisa, she advanced on the woman. "Do you know what she told me two days ago?" Her movements were diffuse, circling discursively around the merchant, her voice drifting like a contrail of whispers, "She said that when you are here, it is like falling into a daydream." The mirror woman brushed a few stowaway shell remnants off the sleeve of Nisa's dress; somehow the gesture was both familiar and unsettling in its likeness to Ingram's mannerisms. "But I told her that no, she was wrong. It is more like staying awake all night."