Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart
gave way,
They said.
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart
gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Ever feel like you're just going through the motions? This Stevie Smith poem has always been one of my all-time favourites because it speaks to me on a different level. Sometimes I feel as though my life is one big show. "All the world's a stage" and all that. But lately I find myself wondering just how much longer this can all go on? I act like I'm fine because that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm over The Musician because I'm supposed to be by now. Do my masters in IR next because I'm supposed to. Looking to get married because I'm supposed to. You get the picture.
From a distance it's easy to see the fun-loving girl who's perhaps a little too prone to moodswings, however I feel like I'm drowning, not waving. There seems to be no focus in my life at all and I'm pretty much clueless as to what I'm doing. I've been waiting for my one great passion to hit me for years and I'm pretty much fed up of waiting. Is there such thing as a "one great passion" anyway? I feel as though I'm interested in too many disparate things and this has led to some kind of fragmentation and a general lack of concentration. Since I loved books, I figured I'd look for a career involving books, hence my interest in publishing. But it gets pretty damn frustrating when people keep saying you need experience, yet nobody wants to be the one to give it to you. It may be completely irrational but I feel as though I have a ticking clock as a constant companion. Time to get it all together. Tick, tock, tick, tock.
I honestly don't know what to do anymore. I feel as though I'm wasting the vestiges of my youth by being too wishy-washy in my outlook on life. What sucks is that I know I'm capable of great things. I just don't know how to get started. The one person I really want to talk to about this (my father) doesn't seem to be talking to me because of an issue of entirely my own doing. These are the things I do know:
1. I want to do a masters because I love to learn. That's the only reason. However, I'm thinking of applying for IR purely out of duty. In my perfect world, I'd be doing the Race, Ethnicity and Postcolonial Studies MSc at the LSE.
2. I want my Daddy. Maybe I need to quit whining about this one and just sort it out....
3. At this point in time, I'll take any reasonably paid job and take it from there.
You know the feeling where you're surrounded by a million people yet feel so alone? Yours truly is slap bang in the middle of that. I feel as though I'm in the murky sea and I'm trying to avoid being dragged down by the undertow. I'm not waving but slowly drowning.
