Passion projects and I have a complicated relationship. I collect them the way other people collect houseplants — with good intentions, mild delusion, and absolutely no plan for long‑term survival. One week I’m convinced I’m meant to write a novel; the next I’m elbows‑deep in a DIY project that looks like it was inspired by both Pinterest and a minor breakdown.

And honestly? Half the time I don’t even know if these things count as passion projects anymore. They start out fiery and inspired, then slowly morph into “vibes‑based hobbies” that I revisit whenever the moon is in the right emotional quadrant. But that’s the beauty of it. My projects don’t need to be finished to matter — they just need to exist in the same chaotic ecosystem as my sourdough, my skincare, and my wavering‑between‑curly‑and‑wavy hair.

Della D.