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On Creativity

A snippet from my thesis
 
I have recently derived from my compositions that creativity drives one to madness and vice versa. It is a lifestyle of second guesses and what if’s. It is an addiction to narcissism, to forcing your thoughts on complete strangers with no remorse. Thoughts that can be embarrassing, poorly comprised, or by fates lottery, the next great masterpiece. Either way the true artist will never know their impact. They will always second guess. They will never feel true satisfaction in life as those who work through their day just to keep their family afloat.

Then why is it that I feel the need to write?  Whether one person or a million people view my works; whether the works are great or a piece of manure. It satisfies my self interest and gives me the outlet I need to believe that this life is worth more than being an evolutionary organism.  Just maybe this is my outlet that keeps me from becoming one of society’s deviants.  Just maybe this is the therapy I need to keep myself from being committed to an institution my whole life.  Frightening?  Maybe?  Regardless, thoughts like these inspired me to create my first attempts at fiction.

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