I don't deserve to be an artist.
I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.
I am completely, irreparably damaged.
I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
I weep over my lost innocence.
I spend nights wishing for skin against my own.
I long for insomnia to inspire me.
I beg for worlds to collide so I can breathe.
So am I writer really?
Or just another misguided artist?
// an
So many people ask me whether I am an artist and I always say no, I am a writer. Are writers not artists? Why must there be so much of a distinction? Why is the world so narrow minded about the written word?
The above words are from people who were trying to tell me why the artist and writer is different. The first verse belongs to the people who tried to educate me. The second is my answer...and to be honest, I don't see the ideological difference between an artist and a writer or what makes one less than the other. We all just want to create...right?
Dylan.
