The Death of Passion

I have always hated boxes. Defining people and sticking them in a box that you've constructed in your mind serves no great purpose. Of all the champions against boxes, I am one of them.



At least, I was.



I didn't want people to put me in a box. I hated the stigma that came when I told people "I'm a music major" when I first came to campus. Unconsciously, I decided to avoid being boxed in. I thought that was what I wanted, and what I needed. To take time to discover myself and explore things before settling down into my character. That was why I was going to college.



I miss those boxes.



All of the sudden, I'm free from the boxes of my past. I can define myself. But I no longer have that desire. There was security that came with the labels I was given. I knew exactly what people thought of me, and I knew what sort of actions they would expect from me because of that label. So I would act accordingly, following my own passions, which then became the labels, and everything was in line and made sense. There was flexibility within those boxes - I never felt trapped.



I feel trapped now that I'm free.



I have come to a Christian liberal arts college to pursue a degree in music. All of my passions have been laid at my feet. Anything I ever loved, liked, or even had pleasant attitudes towards are there. I was never told I had to choose. I foolishly believed that I could continue to love all that I had before arriving.



It is lies.



Though I have a variety of classes, activities and friends, it is not the same. They all demand a part of me. But I cannot give myself away. I stand, looking at my past loves, and realize with horror.



There is no passion.



I feel no passion towards any of them anymore. Even the greatest loves are now cold to me. Where once I had been an intellectual, almost a Renaissance woman, I cannot bring any warm feelings for anything. There are still moments when there is nearly unbridled passion, and I can do anything. But they only spur me on for moments. Then I encounter that great sorrow, when I realize the mediocrity that has taken over my life. What good is it to have interest in a variety of areas if you cannot bring yourself to love any of them?



There was not a single decision that brought me to this place.



It has been those smaller, seemingly insignificant choices that have lead me here. It is the constraint brought on by having a mere 24 hours in a day that guided me to this place. Many can testify that I haven't overloaded myself with a overwhelming course and activity load. In comparison, my schedule is not bad at all. Yet the clock continues to tick, and I continue to fall farther behind, watching the colors turn to gray, fading.



Where do I go from here?



Do I dare ask the question I am longing to know : what do you think of me? What box have you put me in?



I am witnessing the death of passion.