DaVinci's Notebook

My creativity turned into destruction

Porter Lunceford

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


I love writing. I love creating things. I love pulling some story simply from empathy and pure feeling. My parents always told me I was born with a need to create, a need to put something into the world, even if the world never got to see it. I believed that. I would write poem after poem. Some beautiful, some awful. I’d make up little stories and little scrap pages of senseless jabber, but I would create.

Not long ago, a few years back, the need to create… it began to fade. I stopped writing. I stopped creating. And the need to destroy rose up and took its place.

Now, it wasn’t a need to destroy anybody or anything else. Simply, it was a need… to destroy myself. To swap from telling myself I existed to create, to telling myself I existed simply to destroy myself.

The self sabotage was light at first. Some terrible thoughts, a few scratches here and there. But with each hit, there rose a need for more. With each terrible thought of self-destruction came the need to destroy myself physically.

The self-destruction, the self-mutilation… It reached a peak of physical pain and it poured out into a new kind of hurt. A new urge, and then I began to isolate myself. I began to sabotage EACH AND EVERYONE of my friendships. If I could finally get myself to be completely and utterly alone, I would be ultimately destroyed.

The pain and the sorrow would reach a chaotic climax each in the early morning hours where I would scream out the open window. I’d claw at my chest to remove the terrible pain from within it. My body would heave as I tried to sob, but night after night my body couldn’t produce anymore tears.

To destroy.

In my darkest moments of destruction, when I tore myself down. I began to create.

From the ashes of my self-destruction, I began to create once again.

Though I still get the urge to destroy myself from time to time, I’ve learned that creation involves a little destruction.

And that I am simply a Phoenix, who dies only to begin once again.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

1 Comment

One Response to “My creativity turned into destruction”

  1. Lizzie Miller on February 8th, 2016 8:31 PM

    You have developed a fascinating perspective of the common artist’s profound mental fixations. It’s a relatable dilemma to experience such pronounced cycles in creation and you captured the concept in a lucid and eloquent way.

    I wonder many times of the ways that fellow creators experience doubt and insecurity and their subsequent methods at attaining relief from uninterest in their creations. You displayed the cerebral workings in a way that I find will be understandable to those unaware of the implications of creativity.

    Amazing writing, Porter. Thank you for the share.

    [Reply]

Responsible comments are welcome. Comments are moderated.

If you want a picture to show with your comment, go get a gravatar.




Navigate Right
Navigate Left