I don't know about you, but sometimes I doubt what I want to do. There's no motivation to be what I want to be, and I just go about my daily life like it isn't a problem. However, it is a problem. What we want to do is supposed to be a passion, a fire that's burning within us, waiting to build and create beautiful chaos.

Since I'm a writer, I really need to write every day. But since life is life, everything takes over. I usually don't have the time to write, and if I do, it's an article for the Odyssey or an assignment needing to be turned in. As I write, I really need to read, but lately reading hasn't been as interesting as it used to be. During the school year, my clubs, job, and schoolwork take up all my time. I'm not a night owl, so I can't stay up till two or three in the morning reading or writing on any regular day.

But my inspiration has come to life again. A group of students in my major (writing and linguistics) hosted a night for students to read their work and bare their souls called Narrative Night. I had signed up to be one of the people to read, and I was just absolutely struggling to find something to write about. The first paragraph I wrote was: "I have seen so many views from sunsets, sunrises, on a mountain, on the beach, through videos, and through conversations. Essentially they’re everywhere. I’ve seen the view of one of the most beautiful cities from above. I have felt like I was on top of the world at an ancient kingdom. I have paddled out a mile into the ocean and be able to touch. I have accidentally stood on the roof of where the Cave of the Apocalypse is. I have been to so many places and seen so many beautiful things, but I don’t think anything has impacted me as much as people have."

After the first paragraph, I just had no idea. The piece we were supposed to read was supposed to be about identity in some way. I thought about writing about my experiences with traveling (since it's one of my favorite things), but it just wasn't working. And by the time Thursday rolled around, I had nothing. Then it came to me to write a thank you, and I wrote it to my mom.

But anyway, how I wrote my piece isn't the point. The point is hearing 20 other people and myself read our work. It's usually extremely difficult for me to listen to someone tell their story, but the majority of everyone kept my attention. People poured their heart and soul into their work, some telling their darkest secrets and hearing each and every one uplifted my inspiration more and more.

Thank you to the people who pour everything into their work.

If you're going through a rut like I was, go to something that has to do with your passion. Just going to the heart of things can give you more inspiration and motivation than you can think of.