“I write it ’cause its in me not because its fun…”

by meganlebo

1 AM.

Its 1 AM and I cannot sleep.  As a matter of fact I am wide awake.  My body is having difficulties adjusting to its native time zone.  I tried immediately to restart my internal clock by staying up after I arrived home from New Zealand and I went to bed at the normal time here but three days later and I am still exhausted during the day and wide awake at night.

When your wide awake with nothing to do your mind begins to churn incessantly.  Everything is exaggerated at night when your alone.  There are so many things I want to write about.

Do you ever feel dysfunctional?

I do.  I feel broken in so many ways.  A wind up toy that no longer whizzes across the floor in excitement but spins in circles.  Does anyone else fake normalcy like I do?  Does anyone else smile big and make sure people think you’ve got things under control in your life?

I have discovered that my only sanity is my faith in God, music, and writing.

I attempt to comfort myself by bringing to mind the great artists throughout history.  Musicians, painters, etc.  So many of them led unorthodox lives.  Van Gogh cut his own ear off and spent a portion of his life in a mental facility.  Handel composed the entire Messiah in a state of mania.  Mozart was…well…eccentric.  Is this the price of brilliance?  Maybe the gift of artistic expression requires somewhat of a sacrifice.

But I don’t consider myself one who was gifted with brilliance necessarily.  I tend more often to feel like Antonio Salieri, shadowed by the brilliance and flamboyance of the Mozarts around me.  Gifted only with the ability to recognize and appreciate such lavish talent, whose personal creations pale in comparison to the great symphonies around me.

Maybe I’m being a little hard on myself.

But to be noticed is a great and difficult feat.  Is it even a feat I should be attempting to conquer?  The spiritual battle within me rages on as my flesh wants to be heard, to be seen, by anyone.  Should I really be seeking validation in such a way?

I don’t know.

I hate being this insecure.  I think I’m beginning to learn, though, how to let go.  I’m beginning to see how important it is to do what I do not for acceptance but because its who I am.  One of my favorite songwriters wrote “I write it ’cause its in me not because its fun.”

So I’m writing even now not because I think all these people will read what I have to say or even care. No.  I write for pleasure.  I write for therapy.

I write it ’cause its in me.