A Writer's Soul

You know what sucks about tapping into the soul of an artist? You also tap into the sins of the world, and you feel the weight in ways that bring you to your knees. I'm grateful for this knowledge. It's taken me (almost) 36 years to obtain it, but now I know why there are days when I fall into near-despair for no particular reason. Today is one of those days. No, don't cry for me Argentina. It is in my nature to observe the world...to find the miracle among the mundane. I'm thankful I understand this now. Countless times across the span of my life I have asked myself, while alone and listless, "What is wrong?" This question caused me to search the furthest corners of myself in order to obtain an answer. This searching caused me an intense amount of frustration. "Is it this?" "Maybe it's that!" In the end, no answer brought me closure. Now I know. I'm cursed with a writer's soul.

Another writer told me that when she experiences injustice and grief, she consoles herself by allowing the fullness of the pain to envelope her. We weren't discussing writing at the time, but as I reflect on that conversation, I realize why her writing moves me.

It's a pleasantly painful curse.