Like a phoenix, rising from the ashes to soar majestically....

Meaghan doesn't like me to be happy. When I'm happy, my writing suffers, I have less inspiration, less of a need to write in my blog. And she's right, but why is that?

Why does depression inspire greatness? Looking at my friends I can see several cases where misery has helped their creativity, where happiness stunted it. And it takes less than 2 mins to find out that the literary world is filled with great authors and poets who wrote through tragedy.. What is it about sadness that brings out these gifts?

Are we trying to overcome our grief in a way society deems okay, are we trying to put down in words how we feel at that particular moment so as to never forget it and to learn and grow from it, or are we merely trying to escape into our own worlds where we can find true happiness? Personally, it seems a combination of all of those, and none of those.

And it's not just literature, but art, film, even photography.

Disaster may inspire creativity for many reasons, barely half of which we will ever know or understand, and as for the complexities of the human mind when dealing with things like this I won't even try to comprehend.

All I know is that while this happens, I will enjoy the irony of seeing the best humanity has to offer contrasted by the fact it has risen from the worst humanity has to offer.