Pained

I write better and more frequently when in pain. Why is it that words flow so freely during these moments? Why are artists, painters, writers, etc more inspired by pain than beauty? I have no answer and do not pretend to. I simply know that without a creative outlet I would suffocate-I would choke on my unexpressed thoughts and feelings.  I am grateful for the gift of words and more specifically for the ability to express them. Is this a diary? I don't know-few know how to access it. It contains a vast amount of personal expression. What I do know is that writing is therapeutic for me. Dear God, what would I do without it? My writings date back to 2008 and though I've been tempted to edit (if not entirely erase) some of its contents over the years I do not. They are snapshots of my life and life cannot be edited. Perhaps my great grandchildren and descendants will one day know me better because of it. I find comfort in this belief no matter the contents. I am and have always been an open book.