Passions

Is too much passion a problem?

According to the dictionary my computer so thoughtfully provides for work purposes, passion is defined as: strong and barely controllable emotion. Based on that description alone, I think it's fair to say I am a passionate person. A very passionate person.

I feel almost every emotion wholly and deeply; so strong it borders on painful, both physically and emotionally. I'll be the first person to admit it: I fall easily and madly in love — with everything. You name it,  people, animals, my car; it's true. More often than not, these intense emotions lead me toward heartache, yet I can't not feel them. For better or for worse, at least I feel something. There are far too many people in this world who are content to lead quiet, calm, unpassionate (and boring!) lives. I can't see myself ever existing that way.

But this passionate nature gets me into trouble. And while I thoroughly enjoy the fact that I can be so unequivocally adrenalized, I don't like the mercurial tendencies it brings. I vacillate between extreme and total happiness and utter misery. I want what I know I shouldn't and that frustrates me endlessly. I find myself toeing the line and rationalizing my desires so that they coincide with what I want as an outcome. But something always holds me back and I miss my chance to live out one fantasy or other.

Perhaps, in this respect, passion is a problem? It can make you do (or at the very least consider) things you wouldn't ordinarily do. Whether or not you actually commit to the follow-through is beside the point, isn't it? The simple fact that you'd even entertain the idea is problematic, is it not?

Sometimes, though, I can't help but wish for something I know I'm not supposed to have. Because, dammit, what's the point of living if you can't thoroughly (and passionately) enjoy your life?