Muse. Baggage . Real. Why? Why not?
Unreal. Importance. Victim. Survivor. Poet. Dreamer. Heroine…or just a “notion.”
I’m starting to regret the word “muse”.
What does that word truly imply?
For him. For her . For me. For anyone?Is it just a label for nothing serious or real, just a tool for our imagination, ammunition for writing, a new pigment color for the painters palette.
Are we , to each other some passing phase , only eventual lessons to be learned in the end?
Like , “what can I get out of this person , how can I milk their emotions so that I might come up with something artistically half brilliant .”
But what if that’s all that another person can be, because no one can be saved, and everyone is eventually reduced to the realities of life. What if “musings” are all we really have ?
Only a few have ventured to know , dare to become acquainted with my inner complexities , and understandably it can be such a “turn off ”.
But is that all I am or will ever be?
Don’t they also have their tragedies, there inner demons and darkness ?
Are we here to just pretend ? To forget and numb it until we decide to move on to someone different.
What is a muse ? It’s that word interchangeably used for other terms?
And how do I play into this un-evolving role.
When someone says I am their muse ,to me it’s like saying “This relationship will not go far. It’s really not even a relationship, you’re just someone I’m attracted to a use for inspiration .”
Basically , in context we all “use”
Each other to a degree.
Is that the unsaid rule for every artist , writer , poet , musician and dreamer ?
Well oh fucking well then . Right?
I’m not here , never was , to be someone’s amusement park, some sexual jester , and more than that I am not here for saving or to be seen as one needing a “captain save a ho”.
(But do I do the same? At times? Maybe . Yes, many.)
I think we are all several dimensions deep and more layers that need dissection and at some point we’d like
for things to be different.
Inwardly we all long to be saved.
In reality, we cannot.
Maybe this is why “love” will never agree with me.
Maybe this is why men cannot fall in love with me ,completely . They have there reservations and preconceived ideals and cultural upbringing , or their own baggage that cannot allow for mine.
Sometimes there’s just not enough room or strength, and one sees it easier to journey alone .
Personally I feel I am one sided to their equation.
Much too painfully truthful .
Too “real"and definitely too "human”.
A man’s ego can only hold one side of me or do they feel that I am not strong enough to burden their weight as well.
If that is the case, the reason for my state of being alone and dateless,
then in my conclusion ,
“Love is not worthy of us.”
Wait that’s not my conclusion .
It boils down to this ,and this is what we are trying to communicate to each other but without the use of words .
“Is this person worth my emotion, physical , spiritual , intellectual investment ? Is this person worth my time . Is this person worth it?”
Inwardly I think we all believe this way about potential love.