i used to write so passionately….i used to write amazing poetry….i used to write from such grand moments of life that it was as if i wasn’t the writer the experience was writing its self out….it wanted to be heard wanted to speak wanted to tell me that what i was feeling and breathing and being was real…
i’ve stopped for some time now…i don’t know why really…it just happened…
i started thinking lately how do some people maintain a constant level of passion for something and not let it disperse or dissipate into the sky…how do some people continue to be passionate about something in the same way that they felt the first day they discovered that passion? how do you stretch it out, make it last, keep going with it, day after day year after year?
i change so often. things around me change so often. that passion changes with it. love is the main force that has remained unchanged. all else has come and gone and re invented its self into a new form and i’ve excepted it, but perhaps not with the same type of fierce passion.
is it age? growing up, growing older, does it shift passions intensity? i don’t know…wish i did…