Not Your Muse

Here’s a contradiction for you:

I can inspire, but I am NOT your Muse.

I don’t serve you & I’m not here for you.

I am not your gift. I am not your salvation.

No see, I am that to me, and me alone.

I will feed you but I am not your food.

While I will water you, still I am not your source. I am not your life.

I will not hold the burden that is your creative mind.

I refuse to shoulder your darkness while allowing my light to overtake yours.

What I give, I give endlessly but I do not give without thought.

With honesty I can speak with you but I will not sit on the pedestal you build.

I do not belong there.

I am not a marvel, a statue to be examined. To be dissected as an alien of your form.

I am a loose leaf in the wind. Forever moving, forever changing.

I am not what you want me to be.

Not how you imagine to be. I am not what you seek for what you seek is the myth within the stories. The melody of the song.

See I am not the myth, but the legend. I am not the melody but the meat.

I am not here to serve you. I am not here to carry the title of Muse.

I am no Muse. I am me. I am fulfilling and I will take it all back as quick as I desire.

There is no you in me.

35mm film

To Me

In total transparency, this is hard for me to write about. Love. Lust.

Love with lust and love without. Lust with and without. Which do you prefer?

I’m floating in a daydream where one moment had is on repeat so I can imagine myself still there. Still present in the moment of eye contact and body movements. These I want to soak in.

Similarly, while I believe this is love with lust, I have felt love without before and I can find it again. Create that again. Pushing down, ignoring the rising delights of what is not present. What is not where we are.

I’ve wrote about you a million times and I feel only gratitude that through every time, my words have come from love and with care. Never bitter, never hateful.

I’ve learned in these times what honesty really is. How to wholly move forward with openness and without resentment. To be vulnerable because the receiving end is just as trusting and worthy as the giver.

Moments of seeing, where eyes are met. Serendipitous.

Such high soaring joy, that brings. Such stinging strings of heart that pull.

Unlike a seed in my throat, I want not to swallow the truth of this. Me. You. Every bit. Sighing to ease.

This is not a piece of reaching or fighting for something that is not but could. This is more my soaking. Soaking in the joy of every bit of what is there.

The strength of friendship. The mesh of personality with the flow of conversation and bond of love. I love soaking in this.

So, I’ll keep this one short- but sweet. Here’s to the memories because I cherish every one. Here’s to what’s next and who we each become and watering that bond as we move along.

This friendship has forever changed me. I am incredibly thankful. And I write this here because I already tell you so often. This is for me. (Thanks for listening)


Wanting more is the easiest thing I have done. To be content. What is this?

I’ve wanted more since the second I got a piece. I want the end and then I want it further. I get it further and then I must begin again.

Maybe being content is the equivalence of comfort. That moment where the soul is lost because you’ve found yourself sunken into your zone of zero threats, zero ambitions, zero risks. Maybe content is not something I’m made for.

And you know, fuck dwelling on this shit. We all make mistakes. Either accept what you’ve done or don’t but either way- the time to move on is always.

So maybe I sit here and I lecture myself through these texts, but what am I really accomplishing? See while my goal is always self-realization, my true desire is growth. Growth in my writing and growth in myself. To always be moving past my past. To constantly be gaining vision and perseverance. Inspiration comes from within. It does not just transpire. You’ve got to form it yourself.


Quite instantly after revealing myself through this invisible field, the internet, I gain regret and embarrassment at showing myself as too passionate and too raw. Reminding myself that I am not too anything is a present action but still, the feelings of regret linger with me when I am alone with my thoughts.

Would you amputate your heart if it were an appendage rather than an inside organ? Would you eliminate your love if it in turn erased your doubts- your aches?

I’ve learned, two things can be true at once. You can be effortlessly in love with someone and still not be right for them (right?). You can fall down and be hurt while still wanting to get back up. Two things can be true at once and that doesn’t diminish one or the other but can at times make one less relevant than the other. Like loving someone without being loved back. Your lack of love does not make my love less significant but it does make it less relevant. My love has nothing to offer you if you don’t too share the passion.

So again, if given choice to not love the person who has no love to return, would you trade those feelings of passion and care for nothing? Trade it in for the emptiness of never feeling that moment, never knowing that strength that comes from loving someone even when it is not retaliated? Do you think if the possibility to really remove this love like a memory from your mind were to exist, would you be okay?

To me, I know to my core if this were a spotless mind, my soul would be empty. Going mad would be the next venture on my journey- searching for that which was erased. I could not remove my heart, appendage or not, as it makes me everything that encompasses who I am.

Further, I am able to visualize my life without the embarrassment and regret I feel from sharing these thoughts and these feelings on the astounding openness of the internet. I would not be who I am without sharing what I can. I don’t want to live without the embarrassment if it means also living without the pride. Without the sweetest relief from releasing what aviates in my heart.

To trade unrequited love, to me, is not worth the loss of memories. The ones you can still soak in. The ones that still feel as deep as the moment you were in, even if now reality has long left them.

And you know, here’s to me. Being the hopeFUL romantic that I am. Even when it hurts. Because that’s me and I like these parts. I like having hope and I love loving.

Not a Love Letter- Just Some Words

I still just want to write love letters to you. Kisses on your shoulders. Poems in your heart.

Currently not trying to avoid writing just to avoid feelings of you. Most audibly not returned but still they remain. I am not sad about this maybe-fact though it does sting but only with memories and love. No blame- I understand.

Still I will do whatever I can to be in your life. As a lover, a friend, or simply one who checks in. I won’t lose sight of you.

And I want to avoid these feelings because they make me feel dumb and incredibly too hopeful, but I am hopeful and I want to be. Even if I should give up, I don’t think I should just as strong.

I don’t want to let go. Maybe because I let go too soon before or we both gave up too easily. But we needed to and that’s okay. Progress has been made in incredible measures this past year. You have truly amazed me in so many ways- not just with your art but with your personal, emotional and mental progression. You are such a star.

My heart aches from little things. Knowing I have scans of film coming back with you and the babe. I miss so many moments but still we’ve let them pass and there they are as memories now and not as reality. And still this isn’t a depression post of something I am dwelling on, I think I just need to get this out because I didn’t give myself much time to soak in the absence of you. No time at all really and that’s on me.

So here I am , seemingly trying to put some of my heart out on the internet because I know- or I feel- this isn’t a weight you need. Expressions of love and desire of presence. Different times.

I would do it all again- with slight attitude adjustments (or large but relax I’m being nice to myself here). That makes me happy. Loving you even without you makes me happy.

Still writing love letters to you in my head and they sound nothing like this. Less of me and all of you. Sweet somethings and hopeful dreams.


New Depths

To stay level when my heart wants to fly. Challenges presented- one’s that I will conquer. I want not to feed my lows in which case I must also restrict myself from feeding my highs.

Moments come to me in waves and these I choose which weight I give. My desire for level-headedness starts within these emotion filled moments. Within these sparks of hope and joy- I must remember who I am and where this joy is truly coming from. The moments themselves set aside.

This is not to set my joys to be lower than they are, rather to remind myself that regardless of high or low, these moments are forever passing and these emotions are not here to stay. Instead, I seek level and present mindedness so that when these highs and these lows inevitably flow into my life, I am able to feel through them with grace and strength.

Wishing not to let my emotions overwhelm with sorrow or fill with so much joy I feel as if all else will be insignificant, I will journey towards mindfulness in which I strive for awareness of present self, my present place and my present feelings. Knowing and savoring that this all, as tangible and present as it may be, is forever temporary, offering no more sustenance than the cake I ate yesterday. No more value than the moment before it as I am forever moving forward, constantly battling the intangibility of depression and heartache- that’s not who I am.

I am here to remind myself that I am strength. I am love and I am growing into more and more every single day. Everyday forward is another day gained, another life begging to be lived. That is what I am holding inside of me and this is what I will fight to explore.

Lose myself within myself. How am I to learn myself without getting lost? I must explore to what I can’t imagine and there I will learn. Only where I am nothing can I find what I truly am.

Till next time.


To write every day. That’s something I can control. To express some fraction of self even if we hide the rest away.

I feel inspired to love myself. To be there for me and allow my learnings to expand in order to grow the love I have for myself and for life. I want only to create- with myself and others, alike. My yearning urge to make and build is strong and I want it embraced.

Like the flower to the bee, welcoming what nourishes me.

I had a saved text to send to you for ays and finally realized it wasn’t meant to be sent. The wasted efforts I’ve put guiltily upon you could so easily be gifted upon myself. This is where my goals stand. To love me as much as I try to love them.

I lost my journal in an airport in The Bahamas. Love, hate, blood. Heartache and not- my soul was in that book. Progress made and not lost. I pray someone found it. Someone worthy of my words and my heart and my drawings. I pray they help you as they have me.

I read today, “Become what you are being forced to- before it’s too late”. I look to this and feel hope and gratitude for the opportunities that have been so carefully flowing my way. Upon taking risk, I am quick to feel fear more than any other emotion. Though I am becoming ever more present with this feeling and increasingly more aware of it’s necessity and how little it truly is.

I vow to myself to continue growing. To continue writing, even in the days that feel like nothing should noted- in truth there is nothing not worth noting. I hope to grow in these moments and branch out from the ambiguity that I so often portray so I can finally release what’s real. What’s current, present and ever lasting in my soul. I want to share.