I used to love a lot of beautiful things. but the more rules you apply to something, the less beautiful it becomes. all the most wonderful passions in the world, like writing, music, photography... they’ve become so riddled with rules, with do’s and don’ts, that I can’t seem to drum up any desire to pursue them anymore. I’m so afraid that I’ll do them wrong, that sometimes I just don’t even try. It used to be so wonderful to sit at the piano and play what I thought was beautiful music. until someone taught me all about the form and theory behind the notes. and I can’t look at a piece of sheet music anymore without being bombarded with all the “useful” information I’ve learned. I somehow can’t even listen to music the same way anymore. I think about tempo and cadences and pitches. it used to be so wonderful to write down everything I could remember. and now the years have taught me that sometimes writing down everything, good and bad, leaves you breathless and full of regret later. something you write down you cannot forget, I’ve learned. that’s the rule about writing. you can only write what will not hurt. it used to be so wonderful to take a photograph of something beautiful. and now I can’t even take a picture of the beautiful landscapes my father points out to me, because they would never measure up to the other photos I’ve seen. what’s the point? that’s the rule. take photos that others will want to see. not photos of what you’ve seen. rules rules rules rules rules. I don’t love anything beautiful anymore. I love things that used to be beautiful. but they’re stale and they have no life in them anymore. music. writing. photography. only a few of the things I was once so passionate about. sometimes it seems like the only thing an education has taught me is that all beautiful things lose their beauty one day. you will find every error and no longer be speechless at it’s perfection. professors teach you to look for the problems so you can fix them. they never teaches you that perhaps some things are more beautiful left untouched. and I guess I’m tired of all the things I once loved being unlovable in their imperfection.

where has all the beauty gone?