Passion is lost and therefore I feel dead.

It was not a very long time ago when I had the lust of a hungry lover. The anger of a raging Tasmanian Devil. The sadness of a quiet, vast beach. The love of a vulnerable, infatuated 10 year old. I never fully realized that I would take my extreme feelings for granted…These extreme feelings were the epitome of every piece that I furiously typed and written onto a blank, emotionless slate.

Whenever I stare at a blank page, I use to be able to have the words flow out of me so as to purge out all of the hidden emotions that have been kept inside me since the early morning hours. It was a wonderful feeling to experience and I would try to take hold of that feeling for as long as possible. Music. Film. Books. I embraced the deep sadness or the raging anger or the passionate lust or the nurturing love. Lately, I have not been able to grasp the emotion long enough to write about it.

Whenever I looked out at my kitchen’s window, I use to have a surge of inspiration that was incredibly splendid: the sight of lush green hills preceding over a loud, obnoxious town. The grand range of the San Gabriel mountains looked over this microcosm of different tongues, skins, and brains. It was an unnerving clash between my actual home and the home I wish to live in.

I looked over these hills for many years. Ever since I have moved here during the transition from elementary school to middle school, to be exact. I have never been there, but lately, I have been looking at these hills in search for inspiration for a more light and euphoric topic. So far, it has not been working.

Whenever I was alone, I use to be able to reflect and renew myself from the torments of my physical body. The feeling of being alone was enough to keep me happy and sane from the decaying manner of the everyday rotting teenage flesh that I so loathe. I use to think that people are poison and I must get away from them as much as possible. Now, people are the poison I voluntarily drink from a dull generic goblet. I cannot help but take up all the emotion on my physical being now that I am together. Together in one. Together in one. Together in one. Together in one with people.

I have been feeling helpless in my situation. I can’t write anymore. I can’t love my girlfriend anymore. I can’t help but feel that my world is coming to a sudden halt. I am sick of having people be indifferent about anything that is revolving around them. I am sick of people not appreciating what they see around them. How can such a world be so absolutely clueless? I wish someone had passion.