I find it difficult to view it as anything special, something different in me. Like a fondness for animals, my love of the ocean or a desire for solitude, the need to create is just a part of me, & always has been.
But there are times, on occasion, when I think about it, and maybe come close to realizing how blessed I am. Simply creating something that did not exist in the world before, something that makes someone smile, feel better about themselves, feel more beautiful – words that I write that might make someone feel less alone, understand something better, inspire them – in the tiniest way, what I’ve made or written, perhaps even just for a moment – if it makes the world a better place, even just for one person, then all of the struggle, the pain, the frustration – it’s all worth it.
That’s when it all makes sense.
I wonder sometimes what would have happened – what my world would be like – if, on that one day about 15 years ago, I hadn’t had the courage to try to live the life that I wanted to live and just did what I knew would be the easiest thing – go out and find another job, continued being dissatisfied, but safe.
I have little doubt that the disease would have won, if that were the case – and that I would be dead… and that perhaps at the most, 3 or 4 people might have even noticed that I passed.
And I would have already been entirely forgotten.