I feverishly listened to Kate Bush’s Suspended in Gaffa since I was 21. At 26 it still touches me to my core. Maybe it’s a quentesential generational thing for me, maybe it’s about the terifying fear of twenty-somethings promised to be able to have it all and being slapped by reality and cowering away. I don’t want it all but the power inside of me speaks so loud and wants it all. But I cannot. And I’m afraid. I’m scared of the changes. Maybe.

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But they’ve told us unless we can prove
That we’re doing it, we can’t have it all, we can’t have it all

But… then.

Suddenly my feet are feet of mud, it all goes slo-mo
I don’t know why I’m crying, am I suspended in Gaffa?

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And it makes you question your own power.

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I won’t open boxes that I am told not to
I’m not a Pandora, I’m much more like
That girl in the mirror between you and me
She don’t stand a chance of getting anywhere at all
Not anywhere at all, no not a thing, she can’t have it all

My courage crumbles. I want to go home. My home is an undifined place. It does not exist. I want to hide in it.

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I don’t know why I’m crying, am I suspended in Gaffa?
Not till I’m ready for you, not till I’m ready for you
Can I have it all now?

But I’m always ready. We tell ourselves we are not ready. We can’t have it all, and most of us can’t have a thing. But what is the use of recoiling in fear forever? I must at least try and have the courage to open Pandora’s box. Let’s?