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My passion.  I keep it so wrapped up. I imagine it as a ball of aluminum foil locked away in a fireproof safe with a long forgotten password.  But the aluminum foil still picks up some type of electromagnetic signal from the atmosphere.  Now, I wish I had paid attention in science so I actually knew what I was rambling about.  

My passion is there — sizzling and tickling my brain.  It needs an escape, some type of pressure valve. I want relief. I want to be myself, but I no longer know how to achieve that.  I thought writing would be the answer but I believe it only antagonizes me because I am more aware of the passion I possess and I’m afraid to own it, be proud of it.  

Where do I go from here?