Find what you love and let it kill you.

Let it drain you of your all.

Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.

Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.

Let the passion you hold become the fire that consumes you,

Burning brightly until there is nothing left but ash.

Let ‘em seep into your bones,

A relentless force that drives you forward,

Even as it tears you apart.

Embrace the exhaustion that comes with the pursuit,

For in the tiredness, there is purpose.

In the weariness, there is meaning.

And though it may leave you hollow,

It is a hollowing out that fills you with life,

A paradox that only those who love deeply can understand.

So yes, maybe I am romanticizing work a bit,

But isn’t that the point?

To find beauty in the struggle,

To see love in the grind,

To be consumed by what we cherish most,

And to know, in the end, that it was worth it.

For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly,

But isn’t it much better to be killed by a lover?