Yesterday, me and a friend were walking home after drinking some exotic-tasting beer. I don’t even like beer that much, so I’m not sure how it happened. We were having the usual light-hearted, casual conversation about the meaning of life, when we suddenly came to the conclusion that the luckiest people are the ones who have found their so-called “true passion”. Before you sigh and say to yourself “how cliché”, I’d strongly advise you to hear me out. You might find yourself relating by the end.
Firstly, don’t confuse “true passion” with interests/hobbies. My friend actually mentioned that he is interested in a lot of things, and has tried a lot of different things for that matter. It’s the same for me; I’ve had many different hobbies, and continue to keep myself busy with things that interest me. At this moment in time, those things include writing, casually practicing the guitar, doing some sort of sport, going to weird little concerts in bars, (also) watching weird little movies, working as a freelance writer and participating in forums a couple of times a year. Since it is summer, I’m not going to ruin the mood by including studying.
Without interests/hobbies, any person of at least average intelligence would feel as though they are wasting the rather short time they have been given on this planet. However, I truly envy those people who have long established their purpose in life, and wake up every morning thinking about that one occupation.
I suppose that, in terms of where one stands concerning all of this, people can be divided into several broad categories:
1) The people who are sure of what they want to do/what they love, and direct all their energy towards doing that
2) The people who have several interests/hobbies, but remain unsure of their actual passion
3) The people who don’t care about anything and see no point in doing anything
4) Instagram models (please don’t take offence – I’m only joking. Sort-of)
If I were to categorize myself, I would probably put myself in the second group. I do sometimes fall into the third group, but force myself to escape before it becomes a lifestyle. Often, I find comfort in thinking that “I’m only nineteen; it’s normal to not have discovered that one thing yet”. But then again, what if I never discover it? That purpose. That intense interest. The last thing you think about before you fall asleep and the first thing you remember when you wake up.
My friend made a good point about not everybody finding their passion, but I’m still young, and I don’t want to remain in the second category for the rest of my life. That’s why I’ll continue to try different things out until I decide on what I love. And no, not what I “enjoy doing”, but what I HAVE to do in order to exist. Otherwise, there will always be that vague empty feeling in the back of my mind, making me feel strangely incomplete.