The need to create.

My fingers itch. I have never had this sort of problem before, but that may have just been due to taking care of the urges before things started getting out of hand. I find myself painting things on an invisible canvas with my fingers. I have sketched ideas of art to bring to life. I see dances and paintings translucently suspended over the world around me. I have never before this time realized how closely my sanity is tied to creating, to art. I decided recently that I will take an art class as soon as possible, maybe next semester. I am fairly confident it is required for a theatre degree anyway, but regardless of that fact I feel I need to for my own psychological health. I so often feel the desire rising in me to make something, but without the skills that idea just adds to the pile of things I MUST do. There are times I can feel the utter NEED to compose something, anything. I can feel the urge in my chest, a whirlpool, waves, splashing in the cavity there. The hunger drowning my heart and threatening to overwhelm completely. I wonder if it is possible to get lost to these urges, this hunger, but I always just accept its presence and move on. I never have the time to entertain the idea of any course of action other then just to take a breath, feel it beating and swirling in my chest, and to live with it inside me. At times I wonder if this presence will prove my undoing or my preservation. Regardless of if parasite or benevolent burning, it is a part of me. It is a part of me that I am unaware of a way to live without, and am really not interested in researching a life without it anyway. So here I am, sitting at my computer, without the resources to form what my inspiration is whispering to me, fighting the urge to paint the air, and attempting to stay as sane as I normally am.