Writing songs that voices never share

It's been awhile since I posted anything new or even worthwhile, and that disturbs me slightly. But the simple fact is that I have nothing to say. No angst to drive me, no real suffering. There's emotion, to be sure, but frankly I get so nauseated by the senseless drivel that happy people tend to exude in their writing that I can't bring myself to do the same. It's rather annoying, to be honest. Here I am, wide awake at two in the morning, and I feel that I have nothing worthwhile to say because I have nothing to lament.

This isn't to say that my writers' block is caused by a lack of emotion; on the contrary, it is quite possible that this is the happiest, most content, that I have been in years. I just got an amazing promotion at work, drama (for once) has taken a backseat in my personal life, my relationship is going startlingly well, tensions between me and my parents are at an all-time low...what more could I want?

Is it strange to think that a year ago, six months ago, I was so despondent regarding my relationship-sustaining abilities? And now, it feels so perfect; it's as though we've been together two or three or four times as long as we really have. I honestly haven't felt this completely comfortable around another person of the opposite gender in years. Everything just...fits.

But there I go with the drivel. Ugh.

The sad fact is, I haven't the slightest clue what I should write if I don't have some sort of existential crisis to discuss and over-analyze. I once said that perhaps madness is a requirement for the creation of true art; in my case, I guess it is rather sadness.

The sick thing is, writing makes me happy. Well...writing well makes me happy. So if writing well makes me happy and I must be sad to write well...do I really enjoy being miserable in some masochistic, self-suffering way?

I recently found some old songs I wrote a few years back. Maybe I'll post them soon, seeing as how I haven't produced anything decent since. Until the next crisis hits...