The passion that sparked me one terrible night. It shocked and persuaded my soul to ignite.

Tunes in my head: Rift by Phish

Passion is one of those things that seems to be hard to define properly, isn't it? We all apparently have different definitions.

How can one know that they feel passion for something? True, unbridled passion.

Unfortunately, there's no magic sign that says "passion on!". If there was, then life would be at least a little bit easier.

Passion just seems to come and go. Intensity followed by tepidness. Is this a normal thing, or am I unusual in that my passion for writing and music seems to ebb and flow?

I should be writing a piece. For relaxation's sake. But I can't seem to find the passion to make the story flow.

And that's tragic, I suppose. Hopefully it will not last forever. I hate to think that I'd be leaving a comparitively very small footprint of literature for humankind to read.

I don't neccesarily feel I'm evolutionary, but I'm unusual in terms of writers in the contexts in which I've been surrounded by. Conventionality. And yet I cannot write a conventional story in any shape or form.

Is this a strength or a weakness? I don't know anymore. I don't feel passion for what I write at this point. Maybe I just need a little bit of pressure to get the creative juices flowing again.

I don't need a deadline right now, though. Last thing I need is more pressure on top of me now.