Day 6: Fish out of water

Cat's sit on the windowsill
Children fit in the snow
Why do I feel I don't fit in?
Anywhere I go?

I was once regaled with it by a chorus full of young vocal talents accompanied by an ensemble of talented ballerinas perfoming Pippin and at once fell in love with the title track. It was a poignant story of a young disillusioned and dissatisfied prince at the turning point of his life battling to find his way amidst the pulls of royal obligations, political duty and personal desires. It was colourful, entertaining and ultimately real. Musicals have a funny knack of coming to life often enough.

Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Got to find my corner of the sky

I've found it hard over the last few years growing up. When you're 16, the world's your oyster and given my very female-empowered upbringing I was brimful of wants, dreams and ambition. I was like a bulldozer raring to take on anything life would throw at me. When I hit 18, saw me dead set to join the legal ranks, I was a debater, I decided I spoke rather well and all until I interned at a law firm and sent my law plans spiralling in the opposite direction. At 21 years, I recall a huge huge birthday party with over a hundred guests who clapped and applauded to my very promising life and all that jazz. I lapped it up lock, stock and barrel on the surface, inside I doubt I've ever been quite so terrified of the prospect that I actually had my whole life stretched out in front of me, a blank canvas waiting for my very uninspired artistry.

So many men seem destined
To settle for something small
But I know I won't rest until I know
That I have it all...

At 25, going on to 26 I look back at my not-so-very-long past and I realise that I still have very little clue as to where exactly I fit in in this world, no real concretness to my daily methods. It's like riding on a train with a ticket you did not purchase but was given to you by somone who looked you straight in the eye and said, "Have faith in Me." A train whose destination you have no real idea of and all you see are the ever changing landscape and blinding scenery; all you feel is the beating of your anxious heart in a strange syncophanted samba with the roaring engines of time and change. And all you have for company is suitcase of Ideals, a bag of Dreams and sackful of Faith.

So, don't ask me where I'm going
Just listen when I'm gone
And faraway you'll hear me singing-
Softly to the dawn

And maybe, that ought to be enough.