This one is about passion.
What is your passion?
Because you can pretty much like anything, and you can do whatever it is that you like until you don’t like it anymore. But passion, that’s something that traverses over one’s superficial preference. It’s a calling.
Circumstances vary like the weather. It could be sunny and it could pour. But whatever the weather, passion remains the same. Passion doesn’t stop when the air is thin and the way up is foggy, it treads on. It’s a reason.
What you love the most could be what could hurt you the most, but it’s also what could love you the most. Passion is a cycle, one that feeds off of itself. It’s a source of worth. A life and death. It’s a purpose.
But passion doesn’t come looking for you. You have to look for it. And it can hide in so many places that you might not even guess. Passion is elusive. But then again no treasure were never buried.
Writing is my passion. And it scares me because it’s the only thing in the world I know that I want to do.
No plan B. I can’t think of anything else I can do for a living that would give me the utmost satisfaction. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
It’s funny. I only know because I don’t know.
Maybe, passion is a paradox…
But for the sake of it
Let me write every word with passion.