The end of semester is just days away. I should be cramming as usual, but my mind just won’t anchor. It drifts from scene to scene unsatisfied at every moment, a restless buoy in a swelling sea. I am a model student – what is the difference this time? The difference this time is that it is the last time.
Once more through the examination mill and then out I pop – an educated graduate. I can’t help but think that I feel more like an Uncle Toby’s Raspberry Roll-Up coming out flat at the other end.
The last few years have flown by in a spicy, rebellious fog of cigarette smoke and 5dollar cocktails. I’m not ready for the corporate smoke den. What have really accomplished?
A degree of waste, unhappiness and boredom.
I wanted to study what I loved; instead, I chose what would guarantee my employment.
I chose numbers over words, and words over meaning.
Now I sit alone with my mistake. Now I have to forge hope out of my beaten-down heart.
I haven’t been feeding my soul. I’ve been poisoning it with convention.
Four years of conscientiousness and responsibility.
Four years of crowded classes, annoying assignments and exhausting exams. Four years of stellar marks which fail to elicit any feeling of joy. Four years listening to my voice getting smaller and smaller inside of me.
This is not you this is not you this is not you this is not you … Four years has felt a lot like treading water. It hasn’t taken me anywhere. Except maybe back to myself.
Old passions and desires have been brewing just under the surface – boiling like vegetables in a pressure cooker. Getting so hot sometimes, I thought my skin would break. But every time I thought it would, someone released the valve just enough to stop me from exploding.
I could give in – admit a waste of time – but was it? If I am able to learn in anew short years what others take a lifetime to discover – that you must follow your desire – then perhaps there was no waste – only a shortcut.
I could choose so many paths to follow now, but which is the right one?
A major in Pure Maths, yet I can barely get a grip on the infinite series of possibilities extending out in front of me. A moment ago I was locked in a cell with my mistake and now I see that this prison is self imposed. I am the warden. I hold all the keys.
It is an odd feeling, when you realise how many choices you have and that for the most part there will be no dire consequences to face, the extent of that freedom is dumbfounding. Even for my small life, which is so big to me, to think and wade in the luscious possibilities is intoxicating. At the moment, Iam experiencing life as an outsider.
I feel like I am holding my breath, swimming underwater and looking around at the landscape.
I see myself on the land above, moving through life with effort. I want to rejoin myself and move as effortlessly as I do down here.
I know I will have to surface soon. And when I come up for air, and back to the noise, decisions will have to be made. A direction followed.
I am ready to stop treading water. I want to swim. BY CHENOA PATERSON
The writer is a UNI student just about to finish completing her pure maths degree that she has been doing for four years now and she has had enough and is over it. She didn’t study what she loved but instead study what would get her a job the easiest. For the four years she has been studding all she has been hearing herself say it that it isn’t her, she doesn’t belong in this degree. The degree is a degree of wast unhappiness and boredom. But then she realises to herself that she could give in and asks herself if it was really a waste of time, or a lesson that she needed to learn the same lesson that take some people a life time to learn but only took her a few short years, to follow your desires.
CONCEPT OF BELONGING
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