The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.
i thought this might be cute………………. (trail of self doubting ellipses)
I figured my need to overcompensate translates in my work style. it’s detrimental. I need to learn the concept of balance, which I have never quite found. it’s something I need, much above everything else I’ve abandoned in my life..