creation

so i'm lying in my bed, awake, and my fingers're twitching restlessly. and this time, it's not the usual hauntings... but an insatiable desire - no, need - to get up and do something. to create something; something worth creating, something beautiful. to bring something to life. no, not babies.. as a very wise friend of mine once said, "i don't give a **** about babies." no, i'm talking about touching an instrument and finding its voice. taking an empty piece of paper and breathing life into it. reaching into a blank canvas and giving it a soul. art, music, poetry, life... perhaps they're all the same, just different parts of each other. religious proselytization and humanistic darwinism aside, perhaps that's what we're supposed to do. maybe we were made to make things, to make life, to give life. sometimes i get overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of the task and frustrated by my own past, repeated, inevitable failure, by the hopeless futility of it all, and by my own pretentious arrogance at ever dreaming i could create anything worthy, or even worthwhile. but other times, the journey's prospect alone seems more than enough reason for me to embark.

"It's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life." -American Beauty

"There's too much beauty to quit." -Stay