ever wonder what its like to be a muse?
to have someone take care of you without expecting anything from you but yourself. they feed off your beauty and talent without actually stealing anything from you. they acknowledge your beauty. they acknowledge your mind. they need your company, and keep you wrapped in a safe bubble. protected by their genius and pure admiration. the life of a muse must be a thing of beauty.

or of horror. i suppose it can go either way. they may be like breakfast at tiffany's and steal your stories leaving you with nothing. which is okay if your independent and depend on noone. but they may also be feeding off you. taking whatever they can, from a story, to a picture, to a laugh or in some sad cases maybe even your pride. if theirs no respect in your artist muse relationship they will just use you and leave you to fend for yourself. with one less laugh. one less photograph and ache that cant be filled without a bottle full of pills.
there is a delicate balance in such relationships. their has to be love, and respect or the muse withers as she is stripped away  to nothing.
its hard, but when the artist is gone, the obsession is forgotten, the muse dissapoints the god of which she serves; where does she go?
what does she do without him?
she needs him there to be inspired by him. to please him. and without his presence. how do we scramble back?
who fixes the muse?
it cant be a lover who returns her to her natural state. it cant be love of friends and family. it cant be the blind love of a stranger. the muse now is trained to inspire. to be loved. to be iconic to her god.
without him where does she get go?
shes lost. he lost her. he doesnt care. she dissatisfied him. he started to resent her.
her beauties her curse.
her hearts unfixable.
boyfriends cant fill the  void.
sex doesnt fill the void.
drinking does only briefly.
drugs numb it, but alas they dont last.
what does a muse do, without the worship and obsession of a genius?
never lose the obsession of your god. or lost. alone. put down. struggling. broken by your choices. obsessed with your flaws and permanently wondering what happened to the man who created you. who broke you. who didnt care enough to fix you. even though you care enough, as a broken muse to think of him whenever you screw up, or succeed.
you wish to think he still watches you. one day youll bump into him on the street. hes obsession will return. he'll regret leaving you. he'll want you back so bad it would just hurt both of you to say no.
to be someones muse, someone he depends on and blindly loves.
good luck thinking of anyone else when hes always there. haunting your thoughts and choices. accompanying you on every misadventure.
does he even know what hes done to you?
noone else with encourage you and feed off your talent in that way. the world doesnt have enough genuises.

come back.
i wont screw up again. ill do everything i can to be your muse.
to be strong. to win for you.
i know thats what you wanted from me.

aint none of us getting out of here alive

even if your habits are naughty please dont try to change them
ive been trying as of late.
to drink and smoke less.
quite frankly. it doesnt work
i think. as far as people go. we are who we are.
and we shouldnt try to adjust to be acceptable.
either people accepted you.
and see that your fabulous and adjust accordingly to be more like you.
or they can go on continuing with their boring lives without  you in it.
be cool people.
be chill.
keep calm and drink on a tuesday.
accept yourself. accept your friends.
really do what you like. dont stifle yourself because some prick tells you, you need to slow down the boys.
quite frankly. i think they just need to get laid or find someone more intriguing then theyre boyfriends to fuck them.
okay and if you drink to much to often. thats fine
the word alcoholic is thrown around far to easily these days.
imagined if you died in your sleep and you didnt have more vodka then blood in your system?
god that could be your last chance to drink.
who knows how sobering death can be.
and if you dont smoke, please, kindly dont irritate me because i do.
its bad enough i have to take it outside and look at the ugly pictures they put on the pack.
i do not need your prick ass telling me to put it out.
that fact that we cant smoke in bars just amazes me.
i mean.
its a bar.
you dont go there to be healthy.
although dancings good cardio.
beside the point.
what im getting at.
is dont change unless you want too.
dont let people make you feel like shit.
dont let them say you have a problem.
just hold yourself accountable to yourself and keep track of what your body is telling you.
you are sexy strong people.
if the people around you dont see that they can go fuck themselves.
and you can please continue having fun.
thats all that matters anyways my kittens.
your own happiness.
do things for yourself, if you want to have sex have sex, if you want to smoke then smoke, if you want to drink then drink.
its your life.
its just pathetic that others try to dictate the way you live it.
they just need to get a life themselves.
good friends accept you no matter what.
and most will respect your recklessness.
be strong. be confident. be sexy. be tough. be yourself.
dress how you want.
and they will all learn to love you.
how. can they not?

i know i already do.

i love this chick. she has soo many problemss

xoxoxoxoxooxoxoxo