College Grads

Falling out of love…

…with your passion.

Hi, I’m Essence.

My mom has told me since I was a child to introduce myself with “I am,” instead of “my name is” for years, because “that’s who you are.”

SO, I am Essence I am now 23 years old and I am trying to find my passion, again.

I am a flake, a flip-flopper when it comes to sticking to what I want to do, a negative Nancy, and someone that fears success and failure all the time.

I am growing and healing and learning and that is the one thing I took from my 2016.

I have been writing since I was a small child, about 6 or 7. I used to write long (most times very morbid stories) but I loved writing. Taking my thoughts and allowing them to be tangible, physical pieces of me was something that I had always loved.

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Gifset: Gravity Falls

And I believe I lost sight of that passion when I thought I wholeheartedly fell in love with the thought of what I believed was Journalism.

I was lost in high school, during the time you’re supposed to start planning for college and knowing what you want to do with your life at the age of 16.


I didn’t know exactly what it was that I cared about until I was persuaded to find the school newspaper and write for it, it helped. I found something that I thought was a passion, I was able to write and give a shit about something. It exposed to me people I would’ve never spoken to before and in a sense forced me to break out of my shell. I was good at something and people seemed to like the work I was churning out and I was in control of it.

Then college happened, where I look back and realize some signs of depression and anxiety were very prevalent.

But I found my “love” journalism, again. In the form of me being a staff writer…again.

Beginning again, being thrown into talking to people my age, professors, actual adults, it was terrifying along with class work and trying not to lose myself in the shuffle of being in college and feeling alone. I eventually worked my way to an assistant editor position for two different sections where I learned that I absolutely fucking hate working directly with someone who has a superiority complex.

I began to hate writing, journalism, research all the things that I had learned to love, all because someone else had ruined it.

After graduating college I continued working *shitty* retail and got myself an internship at the local newspaper station in my city and felt like I was somebody…for a whole day. Then fell into the rut of hating what I thought my life was spiraling into. A cycle of writing without a passion, without giving a shit about my content, with my name being listed above words that didn’t matter to me.

My mom believes in loving the food you cook.

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Gifset: Buzzfeed

Well my food had always been the content that I dreamed up and wrote about.

My pasta was my poems, my ‘steak and potatoes’ were my journal entries, and my baked triple layer chocolate cake were my news articles that I thought of and dissected and wrote about with no one telling me a got-damn thing about them. There was a fire and a want and a need to get those thoughts down on paper and there was so much truth and hurt and love that made my ‘food’ unimaginably delicious.

I had been full for years off of my stories, journal entries, and article ideas that were self-thought. But when I was being told to write about content I didn’t care about I had no energy to ‘cook’, and I hated my food.

I wasn’t full.

I was starving, for something to make me give a shit about what I produced.

But, I’m learning to love words, once more and this blog is my first step towards making beautiful ‘food’ again. And even though I took a long hiatus I’m back and I want to put out whatever content I want.

I want people to know that it’s okay not to know exactly what it is you want to do.

You will find it.

I am still figuring out what it is that I love about writing, whether it be in a different language I want to write in because the words form just a little sweeter in French than they do in English. The specific criteria I want to focus on, an entire week of traveling and how the food and people are compared to so cal, a blog post discussing my new comics and how bat shit crazy they are, a photo portfolio of what I’m experiencing with captions that only slightly relate to the post…I will find it again and this is the beginning of it all.

Let your passion find you, don’t force something that’s supposed to be as organic as breathing. When you find that THING that makes you want to be somebody push at it.

I want a fire lit under my ass for missing a day on a blog post. I want to make big moves this year and not simply wallow in my ‘bad days’. I choose to put my authentic self out there and see what comes out of it. I hope people dig it but if they don’t; I’ll survive.
There’s so much out there, so many outlets to have my ideas seen and I feel that I forgot about that. I forgot that the internet is here, so many places to show my work, show myself in a positive light in each bad hair day, each story I think to write about on my own, a friends music piece that I fall in love with, death that happens throughout the year and scary irrational thoughts I may have.

I want to show that it’s alright to find yourself and your passion anywhere and everywhere and you should be proud of it.

Hi I’m Essence and I’m Adulting without a map.

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Gifset: Bob’s Burgers



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