No hard feelings Guest. I was a little confused when I read your first post. Worrywort asked for our honest opinion so I gave it.
I would certainly never try and discourage anyone from pursuing things they love. Especially anything artistic, creative or to do with personal expression. Nor that SP is a barrier, just having SP didn't make us better people. Many here ask for 'normal' people to accept us as equals, human beings in our own right then criticise 'normal' people for being shallow and stupid etc. I may have many faults but I try to keep hypocrisy to a minimum if I can.
If you look at the lyrics of songs that I have posted here you will see I am hardly the type to skip through fields trying to teach the world to sing. I just don't think I am a better or more profound person for my misery. This is what the topic was about after all.
I think if art is an expression of a persons thoughts and emotions, then the more emotions and experiences that person has the more choices/options the artist has and the more meaningful the choices he makes become. Think of it as increasing the artists pallette.
I won't apologise for arguing that worrywort or anyone else should be happy. Or at least try it. Personally I love beautiful sad songs about loneliness but I would rather be loved and have silence.
I do relate to the fear of change. I have lived with this for a long time. I just think we are more complex, richer and deeper than just being scared. I think too many, as I have done myself, give too much credit to SP for who we are. We are better than that. All of us. It is fear that makes us scared of change. The same fear that we have lived with for too long.
Trust yourselves, have faith in who you are. You deserve the credit not SP. When SP is gone you will still remain.
If you still want pain and sorrow, you will get it. SP is only one of many sources of misery.
Anyway, sorry to retread old ground. Just to contradict myself here is an extract from a poem by Stevie Smith called The Sorrowful Girl:
Muriel, Muriel, marry me Muriel,
And I will comfort you as well
And bring life to your pale hair
And your languid air.
Ah then I shall not be I, for I am here
With my languid air and lifeless hair
And I do not feel cold or heat
I am imprisoned and do not need to be freed
My prison is my sorrowful mind
And I do not wish to leave it behind
Wake me not, leave me here, leave me alone
I am as god made me, a sorrowful one.
And singing she sang, I am sorrowful, sorrowful
And because I am sorrowful I am beautiful.