On inspiration.

Delusion? Visions of grandeur? Call it what you may, but I just cannot think of myself as the kind of person to be inspired by another. How are the others different from me? Why would I seek inspiration in a source so similar to myself? The sea inspires me. A warm breezy afternoon inspires me. Cloudy dark skies inspire me. Music inspires me to such an extent that I want to change myself. Why another person?

I want to be whatever it was that inspired Yann Tiersen to create this. But what if it was a girl? I couldn't be her, then. It's just convenient to find inspiration from nature, and not in another person, see, because otherwise whatever you created will just be a manifestation of the person you were inspired by. Why would you want your work to be tainted like that?

Some people, I suppose, enjoy creative expression only because of the inspiration they find in somebody. I suppose I can appreciate how it might feel, to look at somebody and be so moved by them as to want to create something out of your own self to glorify them. Freeze them in that creation. But why? Nobody is frozen. Everybody changes. How can there be just one person who could echo the thoughts and ideals that you have cultivated in your mind? Isn't it absurd?

Look what happened to me:

It's a bruise. On my left forearm.

I may be travelling alone to visit my cousins. This is a vastly fearsome idea entertained currently by my father. But we'll see. I'm frightened, but also excited, and still dreading it. Story of my life.