Passion

I just suddenly realized something. I live my life without passion. Many times, even my sadness or despair, or lonliness, whatever negative emotions I experience day to day, are felt without passion. It's as if I can't even put my whole heart into anything, even self-pitying pain. When I laugh, I'm really laughing, and when I cry, I'm really crying, but looking back it doesn't seem like I can do either of those things with all my self. I don't draw picture after picture anymore, although that was never really a passionate process, and I never spend chunks of time writing in a fury of random angsty rhyming poems. That took some sort of passion, or inspiration, but now I'm ...out of ink I guess. But really the only time I feel that I have all of myself pouring into one thing, are those times where I become filled with fear, and that's the worst sort of thing to be passionate in, worse than anger or hatred.

Sometimes when I listen to music I feel a sort of passionate. When I listen to the right song at the right time, something snaps awake in me, and I feel this great surge of energy, but it doesn't last, and as soon as I try to hold on to that feeling, I usually lose it, or it sort of dithers off into a giddy buzz, which isn't bad at all, it's just not enough.

I wonder how does one try to live with their whole heart? Maybe I should try writing poems again. I guess they don't have to be good, or completely different from what I used to make, they just have to be...expressing my inner self. I'll work with this.

My whole preoccupation with death thing has got me thinking about how I can't waste my life being dispassionate. Not that I should be emotionally-psycho like everyone who knows me knows I am, but just that I should take a more active interest in my life, and what I can do while I'm still around for the next undisclosed amount of years.

...Is it even possible for someone as over-emotional as me to be dispassionate?