Dangerous Today

I don't know if it's the grey sky and windy chill outside, or the fact that I feel hyper-aware of everything in my surroundings, the feeling in my stomach that I get when I'm about to write something particularly discomforting, or the fact that I've been alone all morning, listening to chaotic songs that make me feel I'm slipping on the brink of insanity, but there is something going on in my head today.
It's that same sort of feeling you get when you listen to Like You by Evanescence.

Mostly, I think it just has to do with the fact that I've not been writing recently and all these inspirations have to manifest themselves in some way; they usually tend to manifest themselves in dark manners, dark feelings, dark thoughts... But somehow, it makes me feel more alive.
It's funny how you can have your whole day planned to a 'T'. You know exactly what needs to get done, and exactly how to get it done, and you are determined to finish it all by the end of the day. Then, suddenly, as you're listening to a song you haven't listened to in over a year, this feeling starts to bubble in the center of your stomach, and you realize that you're not going to get anything done today. You're not going to get anything done because you're being summoned by some invisible force, or trigger, that guides your mind completely away from the shadows of today, and plants it deep within your subconscious. Swirling around you, the inner corners of your mind rise like the ocean tides and you feel your fingers reach towards a pen. It's at this moment, you know you're not going to get anything done today because you have to write.
You've been triggered. Your subconscious has been awoken. There's no turning back.
Where's your notebook? Where's your laptop? The bittersweet piano intro is repeating in your ears, it's melody is what triggered you. It always has to do with a piano intro in a minor key, doesn't it? It does for me. That's my trigger.
I can't control the urge to write when I'm being led by a melody played on a piano.
I'm led, as if in some sort of trance, to the nearest platform that will take me into the wildly unstable and irresistable world of creativity at it's finest.
My mind is a furie. My eyes wide, frightened. My jaw clenched. Then I pause, close my eyes for a moment, breathe, and then they come. The words pour out like hot, sticky syrup over steaming pancakes. And for the next however many hours, I'm consumed in a passion.

There's a reason why a lot of writers live in exclusion. We're a rather scary breed, if you're not used to us. A lot of people don't understand the intensity, the anger, the frustration, the depression, the elation, the hyperactive thinking, the raw and unbridled joy,the excitement, the bitterness and the fierce confusion that comes with being a writer. In addition to the late-night eating, the midnight walks in cemeteries, the ecstasy getting caught in the rain brings, the deep appreciation for every written word, and the affection for dangerous thoughts, a lot of people think we're crazy.
We are crazy, but we also see things differently, and that in and of itself is a beautiful and dangerous thing. The thing that is perhaps the most unsettling about writers, however, is that you can go your whole life without knowing that you live in close relationship with one, until you witness a single fit of inspiration. We're different in a brilliant array of ways, but we're also everyday people. It's only when triggered that we turn into these word junkies in heavy need of a fix.
I've often thought it's better to live alone when working on a writing project. Writer's block is quite possibly one of the most depressing and frustrating experiences to live through, and also to witness.
Whether it lasts one hour, or three months, the depression is heavy.
It's a love-hate relationship, though, because sometimes, through the depression, you see something so tragic and so beautifully inescapable that you start writing about it, and through the trial you've earned a new blessing.
The instability is unforgivable, but most times, you don't even mind.
It's a writer's high.

You have to choose your poisons, right? I don't do drugs, I don't smoke and I rarely ever drink. I'm not even addicted to caffeine...
But I write. Fervently. I couldn't stop if I tried, and I never want to. It hurts like hell a lot of times, putting your deepest, sometimes darkest, thoughts on paper for everyone to read- you get your heart broken time after time after time, but it's worth it.
For that one jilted fragment of successful and complete satisfaction, the elation and the sense of completion- it's so worth it.

So that's why today is beautiful, in it's own dark way.
That's why I'm feeling a little bit dangerous today.
It's a good thing I'm alone.
Now, to follow that piano melody in a minor key as it tumbles heavily down the rabbit-hole........