Passion. Is it something we all inherently have or is it something I need to find like a magic flower hidden in a fairy forest among moss and squirrels? I have always been in the pursuit of passion. Witnessing dreams come to fruition for others sends me spiraling into depression faster than anything else.
If I have had anything that resembles passion in my life, it is for writing. There are certainly others: loving my loved ones, giving of myself, reading…
I dread every sunset when a day passes that I feel I haven’t done something, I haven’t made a difference. I want to be remembered, maybe even cherished. Writing is my chance at that. Who knows if I can evoke emotion or make someone laugh, but I will die trying simply because it makes me feel wonderful.
I have one novel finished. But I need another. Just to prove to myself that I really am a writer, that I don’t give up when it’s too hard, that I am capable of being passionate about something.