What is passion?
I open my recently bought journal and stare at its fresh pages as I leaf away the blank spaces, smoothing my hands over its smooth surface I feel a throbbing ache urging me to write. The words "CREATE" emblazoned on the empty pages. I am empty, reduced to a minuscule nothing so long since I let creativity course through my veins and into the ink of my pen.
The days when you don't feel like writing you should write. I repeatedly tap my pen on my desk, unscrew and screw its cap off the clicking sound oddly comforting as I wait for words maybe a prose or two to materialize. I am sitting here observing sights and sounds but I am drawing a blank. How many unfinished posts have I abandoned never having the courage to finish, not knowing where I trailed off?
I guess there are days such as this when nothing comes out no matter how much prodding you make you're just churning out crap. Even so I will write what frustrates me.
Write the banal, make the ordinary extraordinary. I figured I live such a pedantic life nothing interesting is worth making stories from. But what can be more bland than not creating something? I am not dexterous with my hands but with a keen eye for detail and vivid imagery even my clumsy hands can make something out of sheer observation. I should not let it deter me.
As long as I continue to sit here burying my face in my hands anxiously waiting for the wheels in my head to turn (sometimes forcibly cranking it myself) even when I feel the fiery zeal wavering I'm not putting that flame out, that is passion and that's how I know it hasn't run out of me yet.
Here's an excellent piece of advice
