The Obsession to create

I have an obsession. Obsession to create. You’re not surprised, I know. Because this obsession is everywhere. Artists have it. Writers have it. Scientists have it. What I really want you to know is that it is painful. The obsession hurts so much that I wish to quench it and do nothing else. I wish to be in a cave, all alone, with all the tools necessary for my creation. I don’t wish so much for the world to see the creation and appreciate me for it. Its me myself who has to see it created and pat my back. If I wasn’t under social pressures, the life i’d chose would have been apparently miserable. I’d not care for food, clothes and shelter. I’d not crave for social interaction. I’d not care getting out of my room and see the sun and stars. All I’d be doing is ‘create’.

I have this little hypothesis that like ants form successful colonies by systematically dividing their jobs, and like this splitting up of tasks stems from slight variations in how each of those ants are neurologically wired, humans have come to form a successful civilization by evolution throwing off different varieties of people and indirectly delegating different kinds of tasks to them. I was wondering… even though the obsessive types like me have miserable lives, at the end they’re pretty useful to mankind as a whole. I don’t see a reason why this hypothesis could be wrong.

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