I never wanted to be a muse. I never thought I had it in me. To be beautiful and inspiring.
Other people however, I find them so fascinating. I often disconnect from my reality to belong to theirs. And this does not mean I lose myself. Just signifies something (or rather, someone) is deep enough to bring awe into my life. And that feeling gives me such a high.
I have always felt I was a secondary character and honestly, I don’t consider it to be humiliating or underestimation in some way. It’s my role. It’s who I choose to be.
I would rather give everything to other people and live in the magnificent state of awe and discovery than being the one being looked at and maybe even scrutinized.
I realize I can’t escape the eventual admiration but I really don’t want it. I really don’t need it.
I am no one’s muse. As far as I am concerned.
But my muses… Oh, they have given me plenty of emotion to work on. They have given me so much. And only now I am able to recognize that even the darkest feelings, were their gifts to me.
I have absolutely no regrets in this choice of mine.
I am a mistress in my own life. And it’s okay. I don’t think I can face being the main person. Not just yet, at least.
I know… These ideas are quite controversial but they are real. And not any less valid than others that are better accepted.
(I honestly don’t care.)
And the role I choose doesn’t make me any less strong.
Every person has a strength. Unshakable, unbreakable. I don’t believe you can be broken to te core.
My strength is my mind. My creativity. And my muses.
Who knows, maybe I will find a muse who will stick with me through my moods and periods of dry pen and dry mind… Or maybe I have already found the one…