I was thinking about how I used to do things I love doing all the time. All day non stop. Somewhere between the eight grade and 12th, I lost my ability in doing things I enjoyed. I am a born creative. I can't concentrate on things that don't interest me. But if I like it, I'm blind to the time. After I turned thirteen, I slowly stopped writing, reading, dancing and drawing. I was as they say ‘a natural’. I had such a passion for all that. Somehow, being forced to take a conventional road to my education made me forget how good I was at being a creative. That was my voice, my expression. I had to focus on the numbers and history of a country that don't give a shit about us. Doing things that I wasn't interested in made me face failures everyday. If I don't like it, I'm not good at it. And I was doing things I wasn't good at 24/7 since I was thirteen until the day I graduated. To this day, I can't remember anything I learned. Doing things I wasn't good at for ten consecutive years made me forget how good I was at the activities I really cared. It made me feel like a failure. I was a loser with a pretty face. That's how I saw myself because that's how everybody saw me. My father didn't talk tome for months sometimes when I got bad grades. For him, an A was everything but when I got good grades in university, nobody really appreciated it. I guess you can never win in a society that was designed for you to fail or not have an original thought. Ten years of agony, shrinking myself down to the pit fueled me with anger. When I started working on myself during the lock down, I started reminiscing in things I was good at. I started to create. Words, pictures, dances, anything that called my name. But that passion was gone. Four years later, I haven't regained full functioning passion in my creative abilities but I am doing better. It's funny, even if you are a born talent at something, if you couldn't keep doing it, your body forget how to be good at it. And then you have to start all over again. But isn't it great. I get to give myself a second chance at everything. Everything I wanted to be. I get to be obsessed over my talents. For the most part in our lives, a second chance is not guaranteed. In this case, you and I both can give a second chance to ourselves. If I was able to give multiple chances to the guy who openly humiliated me over and over again, why can't I give my loving self another chance at being good at things I really give a flying F about. The spark will come back. It has to.
