A love letter to Wellington. Too brilliant.
The ways creative people work, and get inspired, are as numerous as the creatives themselves. But as with everything there is a stereotype that fits: the tortured artist. One that both needs the pain of heartbreak and misunderstanding to create, and is heartbroken and misunderstood due to their creations. The vicious cycle seems to work for their art, but maybe not for their mental health.
I however am not a tortured artist. When I am tortured the creativity disappears. I need time, space, but most of all happiness to be creative. I need a fit mental state that is unburdened by destructive tendencies. When I feel bad I feel like crawling into a sheet fort and eating comfort food.
When I’m happy though, then I’m bursting with everything. I may be too busy to write, but I get hits of inspiration that leave me needing to use words. A new crush, amazing music, ridiculous times with friends when nothing is on your mind but the moment. Even the happiness of being completely comfortable and sated with my situation.
I need those days to create.
Those days are not an everyday occurrence anymore. But when they’re here they’re amazing.