I Am a Writer

I have just discovered that I, am a writer.

I have always thought of myself as an artist, and to a degree I am. Painting and woodworking and refinishing furniture are some of my favorite ways to occupy my time. I couldn't live without it, I tried.

But --

I, am a writer.

                                            I get manic, I write. 

                                            I get depressed, I write. 

                                            I am overjoyed, I write. 

                                            I'm unsure, I write. 

                                            I'm every emotion at once and falling apart from feeling
                                              too much...

                       I write. 

Writing is my soul. Whether or not anyone else ever reads any of these god forsaken blurbs I'll be embarrassed of in a month, it's not for them. It's for me.
And I wouldn't be here today without it.

Writing Battle: Depressing vs. Happy ... GO!

Today I have found that writing happiness is oddly more difficult than writing murky depressive, emotional scenes. 

You have to wonder if that says anything about you as a person. 

     When the happiness comes, it is inspired by real past life experiences, but those moments are fleeting. The emotions of deep despair, of self depreciation, of confusion, disorientation, and loneliness; those are more readily accessible. These lie in wait just below the surface, clawing and pulling their way through the thin layer of happiness that coats the top.
     It's difficult to write when you're feeling happy, because you fear your writing may become too distant and un-relatable in its fairytale likeness.

And so, I break to learn the guitar for the Sunday School Christmas Program.

And attempt to reach my previous depressive state.