There was a time when I believed that those who created works of art that could inspire fear and dread in the comfortable, or a sense of belonging or shared misery in the disturbed would always end up alright in the end, because as great and magnificent as those pieces are, they took planning. Every piece, meticulously thought out. But I'm starting to believe that's not the case anymore.
I'm a singer, and while I limit myself to small clips that get no money or recognition because of my relatively small range to what I prefer, I do hold myself to a standard, that standard being the pitch perfect vocaloid/UTAU/SynthV. I've taken choir classes for over a decade during my school years. Singing, at least when I'm not recording, comes easy. Anyone would tell me I sound good. And when I thought about all this a moment ago, it struck me that something that can be done as easy as breathing might also allow someone who's going through something to express themselves without worrying as much about the preparation it took to get there. There is no preparation. There is only doing.
So when I sing a song about someone jumping into a nuclear reactor and feeling as if that would make the sun move again, all that's left is what the song is about, how much effort I put into making it sound good doesn't make a difference in my eyes if all I want is for someone to understand the message. I'm not suicidal by the way, I just find comfort in songs like these sometimes and want to do them justice with my voice.
Anyway, I hope all the people we laud as geniuses are doing alright. The people who are burdened but are only recognized for what they can do.