I spend a lot of my time wishing I was more creative. Or. Well. Wishing I could express my latent creativity with more ease.
I see pictures in my mind and I can’t get them to form on paper. I draw stick people and my handwriting is crap.
I create songs without words, but cannot translate them to instruments. I feel emotions that want to come out through my voice box, but all you might hear is a whimper, as I realize that I have very few skills. There are prodigies and geniuses out there. I’m not one of them. I’m smart and I have some small talent, but it’s nothing that comes easy.
And then I think maybe this would be different if only I had more discipline. If I could commit to creativity in some form every day. If I actually worked at my craft, and didn’t let it atrophy as I wallow in depression.
I need something to save me from myself, and I have a horrible sinking feeling that that thing…is me.