Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
The way in which Sylvia Plath structured the events evolving her suicide were extremely time sensitive and if they had taken place the way she had planned them she would have been found in time.
Previously that morning, she had spoken to her downstairs neighbor and found out his plans that day. Knowing when he was planning to leave his home, she left a note for him to call her doctor and placed her head into her gas oven. Her plan failed because the gas seeped downstairs and knocked the neighbor out as well.
