I believe that artists constitute the soul of human civilization. If it weren't for artists, then life would be all kinds of gray shades and everyone would be walking drooped shoulders and faded countenances.
But what makes an artist so special?
Artists are gifted with the superpower of enhanced senses. Be it a dancer, a singer, a painter or a writer. Artists look at the world with both telescopes and microscopes, hence the wide range of perspective. Artists own the controls to what they see. They can either make it a fast blur or add myriad colors to a black and white scene. If it were not for art and it's active apostles, no one would have the strength to continue their lives. Have you ever noticed how the lamest jokes make you giggle a little through your tears? What is a joke? A ridiculously different perspective. Does everyone have it? No they don't. But those who do, believe that sharing this perspective is no less than a job directly assigned by the big man upstairs. Those who can paint project what's behind their eyes onto the world's canvas. Those who have a flair for writing pen the unspeakable. They rummage around the collective unconscious to pick out aspects that just slide by people's eyes everyday. And when these people read what us writers have to say, the next time they're walking, they stop and appreciate what might have been flashing by their sight for decades. Artists make you stop in your tracks and smile. Artists make the rats of the rat race come to the sidetrack and joke about the other rats. This world would collapse into utter and unfathomable darkness if it were not for artists.
But do you have the foggiest clue about how much artists carry on their slender shoulders?
Artists function in accordance to the vibes buzzing in the atmosphere. They pick up the mood of the atmosphere even before walking into the room. Their senses are tuned to the universe's moods. If the universe throws a tantrum, they may feel disgruntled. If the stars are not aligned, they feel out of place. If nature blushes like a newlywed, the joy spreads like warmth in an artist's chest.
Sometimes, it's a burden. Sometimes they wish they could just turn it off. They wish they could walk up to God and drop in a request to cancel all channels of emotion and ask for nothing but white noise. Negativity even in the smallest of spaces affects them. The most feeble waves of negativity are amplified inside an artist's head. Many uproot the cause and just chuck it aside, while others let them grow, out their heads down and clench their fists. Even superheros like artists break down into sobs. They sob for the pain they feel around them. They sob at the sight of cracks widening and eventually the shattering of souls and minds around them. They're stuck between their divine duty to be the world's mode of expression and the need to be a little selfish. Getting out of such a rock and a hard place can be a herculean task, you know. So the next time you see the jolliest person you know sitting dejected in a corner, for the love of god, do not say, "Hey why the long face! You can't possibly be sad about something!"
Remember, just because we carry it, doesn't mean it isn't heavy. What we carry is a huge jug of water in a desert. It makes every fibre in our body scream in agony but neither can we live without it.