passionless talent, how it kills

growing up, i’ve always had a knack for drawing. it wasn’t something that particularly interested me, really. i picked it up because i had fun doodling, because it secluded me to a world that wasn’t the one around me.

people often complimented me on it: saying i had a gift, that i was talented. i could never agree; my skills being rather average, knowing there were people out there who really had a gift. i was just a kid who wanted to run away to another world, that’s all there is to it.

i wasn’t talented, but i was skilled. i guess.

at some point i agreed to myself that maybe i did have a talent: drawing came naturally to me. that i was good at it despite not drawing a lot, despite not being interested in it enough to pursue it. a hobby that involved skills. so, i drew. i drew what i liked, what interested me. 

but i could never ask myself why. why did i draw? i hated it. the process, being overly competitive with those who were “talented” as well, being jealous of people (much older than me) have other skills i didn’t possess. i drew, i drew what i liked, but i didn’t like it. i didn’t like what i drew, i didn’t like drawing.

it felt like an obligation. an obligation to fulfil that talent i supposedly had. to keep the people complimenting. although there was nobody complimenting; there would always be someone better than me. even if i didn’t think so. 

but i hated drawing. it doesn’t bother me. drawing isn’t fun.

when it came down to make a choice in what i wanted to pursue, i shoved art to the side. i didn’t like it. i didn’t want to be one of those people who wound up hating their hobbies just because they made it a profession. hobby doesn’t equal job. i didn’t even like drawing. 

my heart yearned for it, though. something told me that was where i was supposed to be; that i’d find the other talented people i envied, that i could master my own art and lead my hopes through my art. drawing was my second home, after all. not one i liked, but i had grown to appreciate it.

i compromised. i didn’t follow art in the end. it doesn’t feed you anyway, hobby doesn’t equal job.

i can’t say i don’t regret it. i regret not standing up for my interests better, i regret not following something i knew i was good at. i regret following something for the sake of money, i regret not drawing more in my free time.

i regret putting school over drawing. 

i regret having put my disinterest above my skills. i regret not being passionate enough to not draw more.

i can’t control what i like, but the art of being in my own world; the art of being by myself, immersing my mind in my own creativity… oh, how i miss it. how i miss being a kid who didn’t like drawing, but drew because their heart told them to.

i hope to rekindle that dim passion someday.

march, 2025