I have never felt passion. The deepest passion, the one that swells from my heart and takes charge. Never have I walked by my beloved to see him off, hoping a cab never stops by. Never have I had the chance to count my breaths, rising and falling in waves. Or taken in gulps of cold air believing it would freeze the surges of warmth inside of me. I have never truly felt passion.

My locus of control unquestioningly lies in my head. And in those moments when I could have been taken away by a gust of wind, I have held my hands in my hands, and stayed. In the moments when my senses couldn't have been but more alive, I have been dead. A stimulation was amiss. Hence I have been numb.

Midway, I realize I have lived half my life like that, like dead. What is life without passion, if not the antithesis of it anyway. Though it doesn't completely feel like a waste, I wish I could have indulged, and regretted more. Walked by my lover to see him off, hoping a cab never stopped by.

And oh I have heard, money seduces. We shall see how and how much. Given a chance I wish I could replace everything I love with something more materialistic, that is more lifeless, yet more undying. But I can't.

But now, we shall see! 


Bloody Mary said...

With so much in your heart and mind, you think you have lived a passionless life ?

The Sage said...

why try to be someone you are not meant to be?? try and make the most of what you are, flo!!

hopelessly flawed said...

i would have believed you but your writing gives it away...You live life your own way.

the things you talk about in the first paragraph..all those things are overrated.They are small and individualistic...I'm sure you have your own set of things :)

wildflower said...

That is the problem. You confuse the life I write about with the life I live. That's not it. I do write the truth, nothing but it, but somehow that line of distinction remains. And the lack of passion in one makes it stand out even more.