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.

Life is full of choices, but some require us to ‘come before winter’
The applause I crave has become the applause I’m afraid to trust
Shallow thinking and arrogance led to ruin of once-great society
Life choices: What’s important enough to spend your life doing?
ABC execs’ desire to delay interview shows misunderstanding of their job
Can love last? Man holding hand of his dying wife gives me hope
Dead man’s watch always there to remind me of my own mortality
Well-meaning parents stifle kids by trying to make their decisions