Why I create...

I'm not an artist; what I make isn't "art."

I have no innate talent and most of what I make is at best laughable.

I have no technique, no skill, but no illusions either.

Yet, I can't stop making things with my hands - drawing, sewing, knitting. I can't stop.

I'm usually a mess of a stress ball, trying to fit in some time to make some project in an already hectic day.

But I have to. Why?

Charles Bukowski wrote a poem telling would-be writers when they should write, and when they shouldn't. (I highly recommend this poem)

I'm (also) not a writer, not like what he means. But this part of the poem... This is me. This is why I can't stop creating something, anything.

"unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it."

I have to do it. I've tried to stop, but I can't. So I do it.

No, I'm not an artist. But that need, that itch to make something, to create something, to translate the world around me is still there, burning my gut.

Why do you create?