The quiet grief of growing up

A reflection on the ache of change and the hope in become.......

I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and that terrifies me, but at the same time, I have this quiet, somewhat restless desire to want and try everything.

“I see my life branching out around me like the green fig tree…From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.”

Ever since I read this novel a few years ago, this particular line, this metaphor Plath uses of the fig tree, has stayed with me. As I grew, the branches on my own fig tree multiplied. Each time I dreamt of potentials and could haves, of different lives I could live and the different people I could be, more and more branches appeared.

Despite my apparent uncertainty about what my life holds, what I do know is that I want to create. I want to be a writer as much as I want to take photos for a living. I want to capture moments before they slip away...