Pain for Beauty

School is really hard for me this year. It's not so bad as last year, but last year was like rush hour traffic in Seattle. Don't even bother you're just wasting gas. I'm being reclusive and hiding in books. I've started writing as story, which gives me somewhere else to hide even when I don't have a book.
It explains why so many writers and artists are depressed people. They were compelled to write or paint because it gave them an escape from being themselves. It's not the talent that made them sad. It's the sadness that gave them talent.
All of what I've just said is only partially true of course. There are other drives to creativity. There is, after all, more that one way to start a fire and carbon isn't the only thing that burns.