Sometimes, I wish that I am one of those people who find their passion by just playing in the playground as children. They have it easy, not having to go through the process of finding themselves. But come to think of it, it's also quite a privilege, to be able to go on such a long search. At least my journey is a story worth telling.
I like spending my time on a lot of things, but I'm still waiting to stumble across a particular one that makes my heart race and smiles of satisfaction, like 'this is it'. My eureka moment or something like that, as cliche as it sounds.
Maybe there is no such moment, maybe it'll only happen gradually, as I invest my time and effort. Maybe it's like falling in love, most people don't get princes racing on horses just to save them from the evil witch. Maybe passion is earned, like affection. Not overnight, not at first glance, maybe it takes time.
Boy I've tried. Music, running, games, reading, writing, studying (heck), drawing, painting, photography, planning... I still like doing all these, but they're not 'it'.
Perhaps I'm looking too far, beyond sight. Maybe my passion is food. Searching for inspirations and ideas online and on Instagram, trying strange combinations, critisizing like a real critic, loving the smell of freshly baked cookies more than Chanel fragrances, choosing take-outs over flowers... It's a sign, no?
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