Passion is a harsh mistress
I don't have a passion anymore. Which isn't necessarily a bad feeling, it's just kind of...odd. Like, other people will get into discussions and be like "History is my passion!" or "Psychology is my passion!" and ...just don't think I have one anymore.
It used to be writing, that much I know. I loved stories, I loved writing them down, fleshing them out, creating characters and worlds and beautiful scenery. And most of all, I loved to connect words.
Words were my favorite.
You could put them together, or take them apart. And so many different meanings! So many beautiful words! And then you'd put them together into magnificent sentences. Beautiful phrases. So many combinations, it was endless.
But my desire went away. I'm not really sure where or why. Maybe it was the expectations. I was expected to be good, I was expected to get the book I wrote published. I was expected to focus only on that and school. It became tiresome, and instead of wanting to, it felt like I had to. Which...defeated the purpose.
Or perhaps it left because of how I belittled everything I wrote.
It was never good enough. It never sounded right. It was never perfect enough. But then again, I'm that way with almost everything. I can't help it.
I'll write or draw something and think: Man, this is pretty good! But then, I'll read something else, or someone else's work and...mine could never compare. It's that way with everything, really.
Either way, I suddenly found myself without the thing that had defined me since fourth grade. My passion was gone! Well, needless to say, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I just...tried to find a new passion.
But there was nothing. I thought maybe history, since I love it, and I love learning it, but then I talk to people who know so much, and who talk about it in such a way that...you can just tell how much they love it. It's amazing.
I'm not like that. I find it interesting, I like to learn it but...they have this spark that makes you know they love it.
I thought of a few other possibilities, but none of them felt right. None of them seem to fit me.
So I guess I'm stuck, and it's such an odd feeling.
I mean, I want to be good at something, I want to have that spark, that desire, that passion. I want to know what I want to do for the rest of my life, and why I want to do it.
But...you can't just make passion appear, can you.
It used to be writing, that much I know. I loved stories, I loved writing them down, fleshing them out, creating characters and worlds and beautiful scenery. And most of all, I loved to connect words.
Words were my favorite.
You could put them together, or take them apart. And so many different meanings! So many beautiful words! And then you'd put them together into magnificent sentences. Beautiful phrases. So many combinations, it was endless.
But my desire went away. I'm not really sure where or why. Maybe it was the expectations. I was expected to be good, I was expected to get the book I wrote published. I was expected to focus only on that and school. It became tiresome, and instead of wanting to, it felt like I had to. Which...defeated the purpose.
Or perhaps it left because of how I belittled everything I wrote.
It was never good enough. It never sounded right. It was never perfect enough. But then again, I'm that way with almost everything. I can't help it.
I'll write or draw something and think: Man, this is pretty good! But then, I'll read something else, or someone else's work and...mine could never compare. It's that way with everything, really.
Either way, I suddenly found myself without the thing that had defined me since fourth grade. My passion was gone! Well, needless to say, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I just...tried to find a new passion.
But there was nothing. I thought maybe history, since I love it, and I love learning it, but then I talk to people who know so much, and who talk about it in such a way that...you can just tell how much they love it. It's amazing.
I'm not like that. I find it interesting, I like to learn it but...they have this spark that makes you know they love it.
I thought of a few other possibilities, but none of them felt right. None of them seem to fit me.
So I guess I'm stuck, and it's such an odd feeling.
I mean, I want to be good at something, I want to have that spark, that desire, that passion. I want to know what I want to do for the rest of my life, and why I want to do it.
But...you can't just make passion appear, can you.