On Passion

I’d like to start this essay with an apology. An apology to my readers, some of whom reached out to ask when I would be writing again, but most importantly, an apology for myself because I let myself down. 

I love writing, and yet I do it less often every coming year. So many possible brilliant ideas have gone to waste because people do not act, and I am just as complicit in this phenomenon. Whether I am good at this craft or not, it is what I love to do, and it pains me not to dedicate any time to it. But yet, I cannot seem to find the time. Currently, this is being written instead of practicing for choir or doing my math homework, but that is not an ideal time that I found. In the morning, I will regret not doing all that work ahead of time, but I will be proud of the fact that I sat down and wrote for the first time in probably around 3 weeks.  

Are our passions doomed to exist in replacement of the tasks that we need to do? I certainly feel that way. When I am writing or vlogging I am not doing it on a time that exists just for that task, but in place of studying or practicing. Therein lies this overwhelming guilt, a haunting figure of the things I have yet to do and the person I stop myself from becoming. I become a glass half full of mediocrity, topped with the air of absolute nothingness. My grades slip into the depths of the unknown sea that is my graduating class, and my mind no longer files away my memories of thoughts long lost.

Even so, part of me knows that this guilt is probably misplaced. I understand, somewhere deep down, that there is no way I could be the best at most of the things I do because I simply have too many interests. To master one, I would have to abandon the others, I am simply not that person. So what can I do? I cut my screen time so I can have more hours in the day, I start to work out in the early mornings so I have energy the rest of the day. I try going to the library to work, skipping lunch to do homework, and yet still, I feel behind. In this day and age, we have wired ourselves to feel that productivity is proof of our worth. Perhaps it is the very nature of being passionate; to feel utterly lost and alone until you make your passion worth its weight in gold for yourself. When you only compare yourself to others, your passion becomes bitter and grueling, and suddenly the very thing that brought you out of the hole you dug yourself into becomes the shovel you pierce into the ground. 

It’s hard to get out of this bitterness that it leaves behind, as I am proving to myself right now. Everything I post, every action I do, every word I say, is something that I believe is held against me. I will post this, but at what cost? What if a guy I like reads this and thinks it's awful? What spiraling thoughts can I have from that, what twisted actions will my brain create for someone I don’t even know? What if my family finds this? What if someone briefly scans through my page and has something horrible to say? I stand here, with all my words, and I am pointed at as the laughing stock of the world. What a horrible experience to completely make up in your head. 

I can think of a million reasons writing is a bad idea. I can also think of a few more that make it truly worth participating in. It is not often that I have received a negative reaction from someone who truly and thoroughly read my writing. I enjoy settling into some piece of music that drives my writing and feeling on top of the world because words simply flow off the page. There’s a magic in the way my brain slows itself down, like a tired cat drifting off into the bliss of being pet. My thoughts do not yell at me. They glow softly as I select the ones most relevant and they start to whisper the answers to life (it’s 42 right?). My writing is full of metaphors and flaws but at least it is my writing. Most importantly, it brings me joy. To be able to spread your craft to thousands (not that thousands are reading this, but the possibility isn’t 0), is a feeling like no other. To do what you love and love every moment of doing it is a joy that compares to nothing, other than maybe finding your soulmate, which as a 17 year old, I know little about. For me, it is the greatest thing in the world. 

It’s 10:03 PM on February 3rd, and my psychology homework is laying blank on the floor, so I will leave you with this. I will have to face not being the greatest at what I do, because I know it would not bring me joy. Yes, I do love winning, but winning is a short-lived achievement. Living, however, lasts a lifetime. So, to anyone passionate enough, I urge you to continue doing what you love, and live a life you will look back on that is not just full of optimization but creation. As always, carpe diem. And per astra ad aspera, my darling.