Why is passion an alien concept?

So I was having what I wanted to be a friendly drink with this guy that I haven’t met in my life, and as we started introducing ourselves, he said “I have seen you on X’s facebook wall a while back and your nickname triggered my curiosity.
(For those who don’t know, my nickname is Obsedée Textuelle/ French for obsessed by text/words).”

Amused by the thought, I smiled. He went on.

“And I wondered then as I wonder now, why are you hiding behind a nickname.”

“I’m not hiding. I love writing. Actually I am obsessed by all things words. Simple.”

“Naaaaaaaaaah, I don’t buy it. So tell me, who’s the real person hiding beneath that mask of a nickname?”

CHERRY BERRY*. EASTER BUNNY. SANTA CLAUS. TOOTH FAIRY. helppppppppppppppp meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

After ten minutes of this useless negative patronizing dialogue- or shall I say, monologue, and realizing it wasn’t my therapist I was having a friendly drink with- and that the drink wasn’t friendly, rather Freudly, I took my purse and left.

“You don’t have to attend every argument you are invited to” is one of my favorite morsels of advice.

Why do people even think they can pretend to know you more than you know yourself?

They feel they have sorted you out like a silly little Carambar riddle.

They feel they have your maze-like psyche at the back of their hands.

What type of arrogance fuels such a presumption?

Why is passion/obsession such an alien concept?

Is it that rare to find passionate people in this new world we’re living in?
Has everyone become a jaded robot?
When did apathy take such amplitude?

I love what I do. I love my job. There’s nothing else I’d rather be. I love being a word warrior.

Do I have to apologize for that?

I wanted to be a writer when I was 13, I’m 3(-) and I’m still convinced that it’s exactly what I want to be. That’s what I enjoy doing and what I want to keep doing.

Sue me.

When I write, I’m here and I’m elsewhere. I’m myself and I’m someone else.
When I write I have the feeling that anything is possible, I can be who I want. Where I want. And I can be me. And I love being me.

“Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.” My place is inside words.

And although I never rely on validation from anyone, there’s nothing that makes me happier than receiving positive feedback from clients or readers.

And although I don’t believe in luck, I believe I was blessed to have a passion that brings in the money for me. Maybe it’s because I never half-ass it; I always pour my all in every single word I scratch. And people cannot but appreciate that.

So yeah. I’m one with my passion/profession.

It’s Halloween, yes, but I’m not wearing any mask.

*My imaginary friend.

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