Intensity, that’s what I miss. I used to be driven by an inner sense of intensity, a purposefulness that I could draw on in times of need, that would spur me into doing what needed to be done. Now I don’t feel it and I don’t know how to draw on it. It has to be inside, somewhere. I have to still be able to pull out my passion, right? I almost feel like I’ve had a lobotomy, and so nothing stirs me to the depths of feeling I used to feel. I have to believe it’s still in there somewhere.
I don’t remember where I read this, but it so certainly and strongly rings true.