Passion, anyone?

Nowadays, all I do is switch between tabs on the web browser. As if switching within seconds would present a fresher, more interesting view of the same webpage I was looking at earlier.

Then, he talked about passion - a lack of passion. In whatever I do. That set me on a slow walk down tortuous memory lanes where I meet you, YOU and YOU. I meet the pen and paper, the terrace, the tree-tops - I meet a smiling face saying 'Hop on, child'; blogs and breeze and water. I also smell fear, a passion for fear. I am at once brave and cowardly; nice and rude; arrogant and humble; but that's natural - arent we all? I am passionate about being ordinary - I am passionate about walking a normally undisturbed path. Think of it, I was once passionate about bidding for a coffee grinder on eBay.

How ironic it is that the reason you fell in love with me was passion. I miss myself.