My brain is such a confusing space. I have times where the thoughts flow, unencumbered by the world around me. I can be sitting in the midst of pure confusion and they seep from my fingers onto the keys. Then, there are the moments when [they] are held captive. As though my mind dominates and leaves words bound on the tip of my tongue.
A frustration for every writer, I can imagine, these elusive words. Having a dictionary of definitions available to me and yet unable to construct. Perhaps it is sorrow or pain which holds me back. Emotions and Composers have such an intricate relationship. One that can be fractured by the smallest of cracks. I do find that thee artistic side of my brain feels more free when I am in a happy or in a contented place. Is it endorphins, perhaps, giving my brain the release it so desires? Or, am I prepared to relinquish control in this state of euphoria?
Most irritating though is when words wish to come to me in my sleep. Pouring in with such vigor, at times waking me from deep slumber. Not as dreams, but as concepts and ideas, which cannot be silenced or snuffed out by the dark! I can try to ignore them and hope they let me rest in peace. But, as if defying me, I am plagued then by insomnia. And, if I have success, the words and ideas from the night will have vacated my mind by dawn. Leaving me to feel as though a great chasm exists between my mind and my keyboard. Moving me towards a feeling of incompletion.