There is nothing more humiliating, nothing more painful than exposing the deepest, darkest parts of your heart to strangers. And yet, I do this every day as a writer and performer. There is something about the pain that is rewarding; the masochistic, repetitive exchange of numbing and feeling that draws me in for more. It is haunting. This revealing of myself is my own superpower: the fact that I can cause myself pain and defeat and delight and freedom all in a matter of three minutes. It goes beyond that, however, into the small room in which I write. Thinking back on my own former victories and failures. Something about digging up everything I’ve stuffed in the back pocket of my mind drives me. It is this that encapsulates songwriting. Don’t believe anyone who would tell you otherwise. I do not believe they know.

“Being a writer is one of the most masochistic endeavors. I love to hate it. It's a crossword puzzle with no answer in tomorrow's paper.”
"What is it that drives a highly motivated overachiever to look at his own potential destruction as excitement and as a potential release?"
–John Mayer