๐ป๐๐๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐, There is nothing, nada, zero, zilch.
Day 10: ๐๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ค๐ฉ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ง๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ๐ญ๐บ ๐ข๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต

I donโt know how to explain it, itโs not that I lack passion or am a cynic who is indifferent towards almost everything. I just donโt know. If I were in the 8th grade again I would hands down say art is my life, even go as far as deconstructing the meaning of colour choice to the material used. That I, just like the great artists I looked up to as a kid, would one day create a piece so beautiful and blatant it spoke for itself. Then I stopped creating art, because I realized at some point I had stopped creating for myself. Instead, I was doing it because so many people had told me I was good at it and felt as though I had to live up to the expectations. I've changed since then.
I donโt know myself well enough right now, and Iโm honestly trying to figure everything out. I want to say Iโm passionate about something, that I feel strongly about an issue (which occasionally happens) and speak heatedly about the topic. To be eager and unabashedly expressive about something that elicits a different kind of fervour within me. I have yet to discover such a thing, and Iโm in no particular rush. For some people, I donโt think it suddenly dawns on them like an epiphany (Iโm some people). Everything and nothing is occurring simultaneously, itโs difficult for me to focus. There are many issues I feel strongly for, from racial inequality to the environment. Yet at the same time, there is nothing that I am truly, sincerely passionate about. I donโt know if that makes sense, it somewhat sounds like Iโm contradicting myself. Iโm figuring it out, and with that comes discovering what inspires, irks, motivates, or angers me. In the end, I look forward to the day I find that something, of which I can speak fiercely and candidly about.
Until then...
๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐น๐, ๐ต๐
-หหโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ
๐๐ณ๐ช๐จ๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ ๐๐ฐ๐ด๐ต:
๐๐บ ๐๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด: