Pshrink is a great word

I wonder if writers talk to pshrinks less than people who do not write. I could be that the jumble of thoughts spewing from a writer's brain forces him or her to see mental health professional just to shut the valve off. Writing does give you the chance to vent, regroup, and refresh. Then again, sometimes it just opens up new gaping holes in your psyche. Maybe if you write about kitties and bunnies or rainbows and unicorns this would not be such a problem. However, if you rant on about Romney or Obama it is probably because you are trying to convince yourself that you are not the crazy one for actually supporting one of them. Pretty sure it works the same way for people like Bill Mahr and the members of Westboro Baptist Church as well. Maybe you are right and everyone else is wrong. Maybe you are the smartest person in the room, the country, the world. Then again maybe you are no better than the guy you passed on the street who is talking to a six foot tall rabbit who really is not there. After all isn't that what a writer does? Aren't I just carrying on a conversation with myself right now? I am clearly not talking to anyone else because most people only read their own writing because that is all they think is important. Tweeting, Facebook and the internet have seen to that. Since I can now see my words digitally they must be important and will last forever. I think writing may indeed lead to the latter of my first two quandaries.