Hold Me Tight & Kiss Me Slow.....

 There she was asking for death wish!

Sylvia was suffering from depression.Doctors began their siege thereafter,with attempts to physically excommunicate the sadness from her body with electroconvulsive treatment,and for a while she regained normalcy,returning to academia.But the memories of her tender age eight-her father's death remained carved with stone.It seemed he took her with him to grave and that was when her sorrow first reaped.

Nothing impressed her,it was like the end of the world to her.Her insatiable zest for life could never make her find happiness in anything.She remained drowned in her own thoughts,and it was then when her life took a full spin.

She met Matthew,who seemed like the man of her dreams,but who knew he later would be blamed for hammering the last nail in her coffin.

Matthew O'Brien,an established businessman,married troubled Sylvia soon after embarking upon a stormy affair,tainted by his own infidelities and her own tragic flaws.
For her life never felt so beautiful,Matthew was the therapy to all her problems and a child completed all those empty spaces in her life.Everything seemed usually normal.

But shortly after that,she had a miscarriage and her marriage was falling apart.If this wasn't enough,Matthew left her for another woman.

She could see her life choking to death.Living in a cramped apartment with her two year old son,broke and ailing,Sylvia fell into the custody of her inner demons as depression reared its ugly head again. Fueled by the delirium of the flu,heartbreak and depression,she took to pen and parchment.
Her letters described raw,frightening and eloquent honesty laced with macabre and jolting imagery that detailed her almost seductive obsession with death.Her words writhed with a palpable pain,giving insight into the psychic purgatory in which she lived during those days.

Her dark old memories re-entered without a knock,and it was when she first attempted suicide by swallowing copious amounts of sleeping pills.Though she was saved,but for her the near death in the sieve of sleep felt like a whirling blackness that she honestly believed was eternal oblivion and grew obsessed with this new feeling.

Soon after the incident she told the doctors and psychiatrist about how she felt about her father's absence,"I was eight when they buried you/At twenty I tried to die/And get back,back,back to you/But they pulled me out of the sack/And they stuck me together with glue."

Her sessions showed no improvement,and in one of her session she told her doctor,"how she envies the freedom that men have,but as a woman,worries about getting pregnant."

Sylvia's death drive was inherent,not actually attributed to the circumstances of her life.The subconscious sickness that had latched onto her psyche so very firmly had infected that most basic of human desires:THE WILL TO LIVE.

She couldn't see any beauty left in her surrounding,her child was a mere remembrance of all her pains.She now found beauty in only DEATH and death alone is all she spiced for.

One winter morning she,left out bread and milk for her toddler sleeping in an upstairs bedroom.

Then she went down and turned on the gas.