Teenage angst

I have two boxes left of "stuff". Stuff that has been around for years... photos, italian verb pages, reading guides to the Aeneid, journals, letters and the lot. One of my favourite things is reading back over old poetry, having a bit of a laugh and wondering how I managed to stay so miserable for so long. I found a few that I thought were worthy of publishing. They are not so bad, and I didn't even have to edit any of the language!

How is it that inspiration flows so easy out of pain whether it be the depressive kind or the unrequited kind? Where are you supposed to get your inspiration from if you're neither depressed or in love? Why is it that so often you manage to be both?