I can’t write poetry. I’ve tried to write it, but my efforts have always been terrible.
I can’t write music. I love music and I’m deeply moved by its magic — both words and lyrics — but I have no talent for writing songs.
I tried to write poetry and music when I was young. I even have a few samples of my attempts at verse. They’re awful but even through the awfulness of the bad art, I can feel the anguish of what I was trying to express when my pen wrote the words on paper.
For most of my life, I’ve felt a deep sense of longing. A sense of need. A panic. A fear. An emptiness that craved filling.
When I feel that — as I desperately do tonight — I feel an incredible urge to express it. My heart feels as though it’s going to explode in my chest. There’s so much I want to say — to express, to feel, to confess — and words aren’t ever enough.

‘Dad, is there really a Santa Claus?’ Should we lie to kids or tell truth?
If you start sharing your abuse, some will tell you to ‘get over it’
An emotional vampire craves you, but he doesn’t know how to love
My need to make others perfect reflects my fear I’m not in control
Feral cats and hurt people both require trust and patience to heal
FRIDAY FUNNIES
The plan sounded fair at the time, but why did I pay for everything?