When was the last time you got excited about something? Quivering excited? Jump up and down excited?
I have a hard time remembering the last time I got excited. Partly because I rarely do anything exciting and I avoid getting excited to avoid being disappointed.
It’s really fucking sad.
It’s not how I want to spend the rest of my days.
I want to find something I’m passionate about and allow myself feel that passion sear through my veins.
There is a level of commitment that comes with being so passionate about something that it burns you up. It kinda scares me. It takes an investment that I’m not sure I want to make. Drive that I’m not sure I have.
I’ve cultivated a safe life of mild disinterest.
Oh well, I didn’t really give a fuck anyway, method of living.
Safe. Comfortable. Boring as hell.
It’s easy not being passionate about anything. It takes zero effort.
Admitting that you give all the fucks you have to give about a thing, that’s hard. Things might not work out. People will shit on the thing you love. Who wants to risk that?
Not many of us, but amazing things happen when we find what we are passionate about and allow ourselves to go after it at full tilt.
At least I think amazing things happen. I’ve heard stories.
I’m still looking for my passion. I don’t know if I haven’t found it or I have and it’s such a strange feeling that I don’t know what it is when I feel it. Or I’m too chicken shit to admit to it.
What do I love the fuck out of? Other than my husband and kids?
Honestly, the work I’m trying to do here. It’s in the art, the stories, the poems and the intuitive workings.
I also think it’s in something I haven’t found yet. Something I think I’d enjoy, but don’t really know because I’ve never done it before. I’ve got to work on having more of those experiences.
What do you love the fuck out of?