Sometimes, I feel like I am too passionate

Sometimes, I feel like I am too passionate.

Too often my teeth are clenched tight, as if I am afraid that if I loosen my jaw, my thoughts might escape. I think about a lot of things. Often about art, maybe an idea for a film, sometimes I write a book through my thoughts, and occasionally – if I am lucky – I think about school. By the time it is night, I find myself awfully aching, physically sore from just thinking, punished by my love for art, annoyed that pain has slid down to my neck.

Sometimes, I feel like I am too passionate.

Too often my gaze is unfocused, as if I am afraid that if I blink, I will have punctuated a sentence. I obsess about a lot of things. Often about a color, maybe about a scene, sometimes a simple sentence, and occasionally – if I am lucky – I obsess about school. By the time it is night, I find my eyes to be disturbingly dry, making it hard to go to sleep, unable to stop thinking about the color pink, unwilling to dream of other things.

Sometimes I feel like I am too passionate.

Too often I talk too much. I never know when to stop talking. I think I am afraid that if I stop talking I will be left alone with my thoughts. I will have no one to ponder with, no one to discuss with, no one to help me rest my mind.

And I know that everyone has passion, I imagine it is something at their core that is always craving for more. But I fear that my passion is different. That it is not something that sparks inspiration, it is not that twinkle – a hint of bliss – in someone’s eye when they talk about their passion.

Passion is consuming, it is a void, it stares back at me giving nothing and only asking for more. But it is also noisy and it is bright, it is an addiction and it is overwhelming. And worst of all, It makes me feel alone. 

I thought passion was comfortable when in truth, it is not. 

Passion is painful, it is honest about its nature, the word deriving from the latin word pati, meaning to suffer. So I am wrong in my analysis that passion is a twinkle in someone’s eye. And I can accept that to have passion is to suffer, that in a sense, our human nature is in a constant state of struggle. But I still fear that it is not just the state of passion, but rather my own doing – being too passionate – that is responsible for the feeling of isolation.

But again, I am wrong in my analysis that I am in isolation. I wrongly focus at the moments in which my teeth are clenched and my gaze is unfocused. I have to remember that I have surrounded myself with people with compassion, people who can ‘suffer with’, who are altruistic, who are selfless. In those moments, the burden of passion, the feeling of isolation, is lifted. 

Sometimes, I feel like I am too passionate. But compassion makes that fear go away.

by Lelani

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