Passion

Passion is something that thrums in your heart and up to your head.  Being passionate means that you would die for something besides yourself, that you're actually invested in something else. That you care so much that you feel your heart is about to spill over. When someone has passion, it means that they actually give a fuck, that they have broken through the mirage of society's apathy and shallow. And that all means... Having passion means that you care.

Caring is such a simple thing, really. It takes so much out of you and yet it is so easy to do. It is so easy to care, to fall into that routine. It is so hard to fight it. Or, at least, that is the case for me as a passionate person.

The only hard part about caring is showing it. Caring makes you so incredibly vulnerable that it can squeeze your heart and wring it dry. Yet for someone like me, it is so hard repressing how I feel. It is so hard holding back, even when I have to do so.

Passion makes me feel alive. It makes every sense come on fire, makes me notice everything around me. Passion for the world, for life, for freedom, for humanity and all of the other silly idealistic dreams that I haven't been able to let go clutch me still and I feel random waves of feeling all throughout the day (thinking about all sorts of crazy things).

Passion is a double-edged sword. Putting so much into something can leave you in the dust. If you apply passion towards a person, they leave. If you apply passion to a thing, it so often just doesn't end up working out. When something lifts you up like that, the absence of it so often pulls you down. Feeling so much means feeling... everything.

For me, it feels natural to put so much of myself into something. It feels so natural to bare myself and to just... feel. I have tried to numb myself before but the haunting effect of my feelings comes underneath it. Something like that.

I feel crazy sometimes. I wish other people could be the same way. These days, it feels like most people don't care about anything at all. They go to their work day in and day out- some boring office job or menial job, depending on their social class and then... They just go home, usually too worn out by it all. If not, they watch some stupid reality show or something silly. They go about their entire lives though not really caring and sometimes even just replacing that hole in their heart with intense materialism. It makes me feel so sad for them but also so frustrated. I want so badly to find a person who cares as deeply as I do about everything around me.

I feel so raw and so passionate that I'm oozing sometimes. I feel like I can't get all of the passion out and so I write. I feel, I feel, I feel and then I give some of it to my characters because no one else will take my love and my feelings.

Unfortunately for me, too many people are fake. So many people are so broken that they don't know how to feel; they are so broken that they are numb and hollow. They had behind masks and so I can't ever feel that biting loyalty for them. And, for someone as passionate as I am, that just feels so sad. I have so much feeling inside that I need to turn it into love. I can't love a hollow person. My heart aches for them, even as I am frustrated with these people.

Passion has lifted me up and crashed me to the ground. It has made me feel so alive that I was high off of life and it has made me feel like I'm about to die. Passion has been the set of wings on my shoulders as well as the spikes that press into my skin.