“I’ve got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Would take your breath away
I’d write it all
Even more in love with me you’d fall…”
-Plain White T’s

I wrote something a few weeks ago. In the midst of the mush and crush of what I was feeling, I wrote some lyrics and some poems and put some words together and really felt like I got it right - like I created something out of what I was feeling, that I was able to do something good.

And now words won’t come.

I suppose that is a good thing – most of my poetic creativity comes from a place of hurt, and my lack of words must mean that I’m healing and I’m getting past it. I fear though that it’s not a healing but a numbness – that maybe I’ve said all I feel I can say and nothing else will come. But, maybe the glass is half full and I’m healing. That would be pretty grand, I’d think (grand? Who the hell says ‘grand’? Where did that come from?).

I’ve never been one to wax poetic about happiness – there’s a line in the movie “Beautiful Girls” where Timothy Hutton’s character says, “Happy piano players work the circus.” I mean, that can’t be true of music and poetry – there’s plenty of happy stuff out there. I just have a harder time writing it. I tend to write autobiographically, and I tend to write as an outlet – when things are good, I’m too busy being happy to write about it!

I need to find ways to channel my creativity when I’m not hurting though. I don’t want writing to be something that is only associated with having an ice-cream-cone-in-the-dirt kind of day. I need to start assigning myself projects to force my brain to work that way, I think. Anyone care to kick me in the ass and make me try?