Passion.

It is that which drives me to get up every morning to go to work. It is the same thing which urges me to stay up all night (or to at least try) to finish a report or to work when I’m on hospital duty. It is also that which takes me to the beach whenever I am able, and that which makes me commute, if I have to but which I absolutely hate, for 3 hours just so I can spend time with my niece.

 

Similarly, albeit of a different kind, it was also that which would send tingles down my spine at that time when I was still so in love—when the mere sight of him, or the corniest line, or the briefest kiss made me happy and made me crave for more. It was that which made me want to give him everything and more to make him happy, and still feel that I hadn’t given enough. And yes, it was the same thing which macerated my heart to bits at the touch of betrayal.

 

Passion. How wonderful when it fires you up to do good, to do better, or when it simply brightens up your day. As much as it vexes you when a patient takes his pains out on you, or when it rains on your only day at the beach, or when the passenger beside you on the bus to see your niece doesn’t respect your personal space, I go on feeling passionate about my work, about finding myself in a place where I can relax, about the people I love.

 

For a time, I told myself that on the matter of love I would remain cold and detached, as I had grown afraid to give my all and get disappointed again. But then I’ve realized that that is the notion of a coward, and well, I admit that I’ve gotten tired of not having someone to feel passionate about. And so, as painful as it is to have your heart broken, I realize that I would rather get hurt and yet feel passion and be alive, than to keep myself protected and remain cold and dead.

 

In “Like Water for Chocolate,” Laura Esquivel tells of how passion is like a box of matches. In order to maintain passion, a match must be lit only one at a time, as lighting too much would burn the passion out too easily. On the other hand, the matches must be kept dry in order to stay viable, so one must steer clear of people who would dampen your passion.

 

The book ends with the main characters, Pedro and Tita, passing on to the next life while in the throes of a passion so intense that it led to their ranch burning down. That’s magic realism for you, but it does have an appeal.

 

I do not desire that much passion—haven’t I learned enough from my last relationship? But I do wish to be able to light a match again, and for the right person. The next time around I won’t light too much, and I will make sure that I will be lighting them for someone who will be lighting his at par with mine. And, yes, it would have to be someone who will take care not to dampen my matches.

 

Passion. That which gives you a sense of purpose, a reason to want to be better, something to look forward to. As much as I know that it can hurt you worse the more you feel it, and as much as I know that it’s not meant to last, I just want to live again.