I think this romantic idea that the truly most talented and brilliant among us are tortured souls is unfair.
Because their talent and irregularity they must have a setback. Some sort of balance.
Take writers for instance.
They write and write until their fingers bleed, but their blood is ink flowing into words.
They can't speak up and out to share their thoughts. They contain tortured souls. So they write and write and write because they have a lot to say, and the page will always listen.
No one will ever hear what they have to say though, because no one reads anymore. And when reading becomes the new trend in twenty years people will say, "this person is a genius." And the authors name will live on forever as a legend.
But legends don't have ears, or eyes, or souls. Not like the author did. And when the people look back on the authors life they will see they lived a quiet, pathetic life.
Because they could not speak up and out;
They spilled their guts on a page.
Their voice never heard.
Lost in the breeze that carries all the other nameless geniuses.
But when their art is found, it is loved.
Is it all worth it though?
Too keep the balance?
To live a life with a tortured mind, but be praised after death?
You can't really appreciate it then.
Perhaps the writing isn't about adoration.
It's passion and love and having a voice because you just can't have one any other way.
The only shame for the dear writer is this: your voice is never heard until after death and being a legend means nothing.