Someone recently told me that it is necessary to have a passion in life. This got me thinking long and hard about what my passion might be.

Saying that the fact that I couldn’t pinpoint an exact thing did not make me stress, is a lie. Am I really living if I don’t have a passion, or am I just trying to survive? Questions like these started flooding my brain.

The more I thought about it, the more a certain cliché started taking over my thoughts. The thing about clichés is that they are clichés for a reason, and I think Khaled Hosseini explained clichés in his novel, The Kite Runner, perfectly.

“A creative writing teacher at San Jose State used to say about clichés: ‘Avoid them like the plague.’ Then he’d laugh at his own joke. The class laughed along with him, but I always thought clichés got a bum rap. Because, often, they’re dead-on. But the aptness of the clichéd saying is overshadowed by the nature of the saying as a cliché.”

Now that I have justified my use of a cliché, I can get to the point. I think my passion in life is not necessarily one thing, but a million little things. Here it comes, brace yourselves: In the end, it’s the little things that matter most.

The smell of coffee coming from a cafe that makes you stop in your tracks, the clouds that move so constantly as if they are infinitely trying to form a picture that might just catch someone’s attention, the light that penetrates the tree’s branches and makes a playful scene on the ground, the random a-bit-too-big-for-a-stranger smile you get from a passer-by, the way someone gets excited when they hear their favourite song, the laughter that makes you gasp for breath, an elderly couple holding hands, dancing in the rain. These things are what I live for. These things are my passion.


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