Passion; or lack thereof

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Im a rebel without a cause, or more importantly, Im a writer without words. Actually, for all intents and purposes, im not a writer at all. Im just a person that occassionaly decides to write. That doesnt make me anymore different than any other person out there. I have ideas so I suppose you could call me creative. A writer though? I dont even know what that is anymore. 

I thought I had a passion like no other for writing. I even have two permaneant tattoos that grace my body that pertain to that passion. Some how though, even with my body donning those declarations, the most important tattoo of them all, faded. While it wasnt created in ink upon my skin, it was one I never assumed I would see go. The portrait of passion had been etched across my heart since I was a child. Now, The only remnants of that portrait is a scar left behind from being stratigically lasered out while I wasnt looking. 

Some where, in-between different hobbies and family, I allowed myself to let it go. I allowed myself to cut out what I once envinsioned to be my most important tattoo. 

I still think about the passion I had. Thats all I ever do about it though, think about it. The thoughts rarely become words and I go back to asking myself why? I used to say that I just didn’t have the time. Then I just said there wasn’t motivation to do anything. It was then I realized that the idea of motivation had more to it. That it was passion that fueled motivation. It was then, that I understood that the passion was gone. 

I had already cut ties with other blogs I participated on and any other networking I was doing outside of my Twitter account. I knew it was fading then. I had no responsibilities to the writing world anymore except for those I created myself. It was actually freedom. I had one less thing to worry about outside of my every day life. That right there speaks volumes as to rather or not I still carried around the passion. The answer was so obvious. It’s still so very obvious. I have the scar there to prove it. And yet…

I still get that inkling. Just every once in a while. The ideas still pop up and my fingers become itchy. My mind roams and my thoughts land on writing. I still think about it. I still want to do it. But not always. Hardly ever. It’s still there though and it bugs the shit out of me. 

I honestly wish I could erase the memories of the passion I had for it. How enthusiastic I could be when I was putting my ideas into the written word. I wish I could stop the ideas from coming. Since I can’t, it just leaves me confused.

What does this mean? Is the passion truly gone or just being over shadowed by life? Are the ideas just remnants of the creative bone that is now broken? Cause let’s be honest, I could never seem to finish a damn thing I worked on.

Am I writer on hiatus or just a person with a random hobby? Do I lack passion or motivation? Do I fight to bring it back or do I just let it slip all the way until it’s gone? 

In all honesty, my confusion is due to my incessant depression that tends to loom over my head. Most days I can’t tell if how I am is due to that or if I just blame that because it’s easier. Is my lack of passion for anything because of that or have I become lazy and uncaring as life continues to move on?

It seems like a million questions without a single answer. I’m left with only speculation because even I don’t know myself well enough to give the answers. The only thing I know for sure is that at this moment, the passion, the life force that made my writing enjoyable and easy, is gone. 


3 thoughts on “Passion; or lack thereof

    Jean-Jacques Morval said:
    February 5, 2016 at 6:34 PM

    Reading this, Rose Marie, I suddenly feel very sad. I feel sad because having read quite a lot of your poetry now, I know just how good it is, and original too. It really caught my imagination, which is why I was trying to champion you on Twitter.
    But it’s my firm belief that when you have that creative spark within you, it is there for life and not a passing phase. Sure, life gets busy and other things can take centre stage, and that’s a normal part of ‘life’s journey’. I’ve had similar issues myself. But that spark never leaves you. Please keep the faith :o(
    I wrote a sonnet about my own inner turmoil a while ago. Please can I share it with you?

    Why Do I Write?

    Just for the love of poetry I strive,
    Creative sparks, they crash in to my mind.
    A million thoughts, my racing mind contrives,
    But gift or curse? This truth I cannot find.
    Not from a moral high ground can I speak,
    Nor from the great and good of education,
    Just for the love of language I am weak,
    Which gives me grand ideas above my station.
    As I stride this great path, my knowledge grows;
    I test myself within the fires of old.
    In lucubrations, this short life will show
    My true resolve. It’s worth the fight, I’m told.
    Like Drayton’s Sisyphus, I toil and try,
    Only to hope my peers won’t pass me by.

    Rose Marie, I refuse to pass you by. Writing is a muscle that needs exercise to become stronger. Yours has become weak, that’s all, and the fact that you still have ideas tells me that your spark is still there. They are not remnants of anything, they are the passion that is still inside you trying to find its way out.

    Are you a writer? Yes, of course you are. You are many other things as well, but you ARE a writer. You don’t need to be successful, you just need to write.
    It may not mean much to you, but you have at least one fan sitting right here. I believe in you even if you might not at the moment.

    Best Wishes


      Rose Marie Hart responded:
      February 5, 2016 at 10:10 PM

      Wow. Thank you soooooo much. Your sonnet… It’s wonderful! Speaks to me a great deal. I go through this every now and again so we will see where it takes me this time. Your words are very helpful.


    Jean-Jacques Morval said:
    February 6, 2016 at 6:37 PM

    Glad that you like the sonnet :o) there’s a lot more where that came from, but I struggle to share like you have because I don’t have the self-confidence. I have my own demons to struggle with, but I won’t bore you with that. I’m just relieved that you haven’t given up entirely, I would be very sad if you did…
    I guess, on some level, I need to believe you can come through this because I don’t want to think that I could possibly give up on writing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever had any talent for and I don’t want to lose it.
    I have two daughters, and I just want them to be proud of me and what I do.

    Just keep writing…


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