Wednesday, September 28, 2011

creativity and [madness]

Living in this body of mine has not always been very easy. My brain is in constant thought. It never sleeps. Thinking, creating, dreaming awake, brain storming, inventing... over and over, then over again. I am a living walking breathing nightmare. Am I insane? Do I need medication? Will it ever stop? Day by day, night after night I fight a battle against myself... a battle that I can never win. I am trapped in my own body. Trapped in this madness...

The migraines keep coming, leaving me paralyzed... the doctors just try to feed me pills... they do not know how to make the headaches stop. X-rays, MRI's.. probing, poking.. just gets worse... if i have to live one more minute like this, I would rather not. Walking into despair, crying out with anger. But no one is listening, no one can hear me... the screaming, the taunting... I am backed into a corner, I am hiding from you world. But it's not you, it's me I want to hide from.. but I can't. Pushed everyone away, broke all lines of communication. Finally silence, finally peace...

I am living walking breathing creativity. This madness that smothers me is me. There is no medium in my world, I feel you sorrow, and I embrace you happiness... I love with every fiber in my body, and I grieve with it too. Your words pierce through me like a dagger or they give me wings to fly... I am the creative brain. I am imagination, I am that movie you just watched, I am that light you just turned on, I am the art on your wall.... I am colorful, vivid, free, passion, and boundless.

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am."

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“No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness” - Aristotle

“There is no great genius without a tincture of madness.” - Seneca

“Men have called me mad but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence–whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought–from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.” - Edgar Allan Poe

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I am. I am. I am.
[sylvia plath]

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