I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckond and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another big was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and Soutg America, and another fig was Vonstantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to my ground at my feet.”
The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath. 1971.
This excerpt has to be one of the best and my personal favorite of one of my struggles that I have dealt with in my past. So much can be offered in this world, so much knowledge, opportunity, adventure, experience, and yet, we cannot achieve it all. I would almost stress myself to the point that I didn’t even do anything because it was all so overwhelming of potential. But how awful is that? Upon getting older, it has been getting more and more clear to me how limited life is, and it is nothing to take for granted.
Pursue your loves and interests, my darlings. Always be curious, and satisfy your knowledge.