So I re-read The Love Song of Alfrend J. Prufrock, and it's got me really thing about the nature of taking control of one's own life. More specifically why on one hand I'm desperate to take some hold over the reins of the my life and on the other I'm too listless to attempt it. Is there some comfort in a life more ordinary?

I have this rotting feeling that my life is living me rather than the other way around. I've allowed expectation of obligation to dictate every action in my life.

What would they say if I took the money I had left over and ran away with it? If I stopped waiting for the right time and just did it?

I am Alfred J. Prufrock, only I am 23 yet I feel 65.