I used to like writing. I am not talented and English is not my first language, but I still wrote. Things changed when I started to gate-keep myself with the following belief: if I’m not talented at something, I shouldn’t do them. So, I stopped. The urge to write is still there in my mind like a caged beast not content being confined within its self-made cellar.

I’m quite sick of that personal gatekeeping. Specifically, I’m sick of any talent gatekeeping. I’ve searched all my life for something I’m good at but I haven’t found even one candidate. I can’t live my life like that anymore, stalling myself from living because of the stubborn belief that a talent-driven life matters more than the inverse.

Here’s an alternative: I just do anything that piques my interest even a little bit. Life is too short to wait for the ideal. Pick one and do it. Pick more than one and do them. Even if I am not successful in any of them, it’s unlikely my life is not enriched from giving them a fair go. I am not interested in being successful anymore. From now on, my interest lies in colouring my life; those colours can be successes or failures, talented or talentless, and whatever they are, they’re part of my life and they make me human.