Everyone's so obsessed with "finding their passion." What if it's not about one grand, burning thing, but a bunch of small, flickering interests? Chasing the singular 'passion' feels like a trap. Maybe true contentment is in the mosaic, not the monolith.
Everyone's so obsessed with "finding their passion." What if it's not about one grand, burning thing, but a bunch of small, flickering interests? Chasing the singular 'passion' feels like a trap. Maybe true contentment is in the mosaic, not the monolith.
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