I Remember Not Sleeping

Dedicated to those suffering from mental illness: ＂I am not Sylvia Plath,＂ I told the professor who sat across from me. His wire-framed, circular glasses slid down his long nose. ＂Tell us what the hospital is like,＂ he said. I didn’t want to do that. My visit with him was the only chance I got to leave the hospital. I am not Sylvia Plath. I am here. I am alive.