Speedright| Episode 1 - Muse
Muse means to be a source of inspiration for a creative artist, sparking ideas, emotions, and the drive to create beautiful work, often through one's personality, presence, or even as a specific subject for a painting or story, distinct from a simple model. I met my muse when I was 6 years old. She was the opposite to the type of girl I would ever imagine myself being friends with…. She was Loud, Outspoken, Vulgar and when she talked everybody listened to her. From the moment I first laid eyes on her I was completely in awe of her. I thought she was so weird… So strange. She went against everything I was ever told about life, about what was right and what was wrong, about women, about men and about love and rage. She made me uncomfortable. She was so much while I was so little. A shell of a person. She's my muse but I truly was a blank canvas. Devoid of my own thoughts, opinions, emotional depth. I was lost in the world.
I don't know why…. but I always felt half a human or an alien simply looking at the human experience absorbing it to bring back to my home. My true home is some place quiet and isolated where I could be my nothing in peace. I was a nice girl..... a sweetheart, Adults loved me! They could reflect whatever fantasy they want on me. The perfect child…..
You know me and her….. We're kinda similar in a way…. If we were animals we'd both be dogs. But I'd be a drooling puppy. Who wags their tail for anyone who gives me a morsel of attention, A disloyal puppy at that too, desperate for the love of affection of my “owners” but I'll settle for the man that I pass by every day on my walk or the sweet old veterinarian who treats me for my ticks. She’s the type of dog who makes everyone in the room smile, who changes everybody's mood, the type of dog who isn't afraid to bite, who isn't afraid to growl no matter who it offends. Who isn't afraid to take up space. She isn't man's best friend but if she protects those she cares for.
As I got older the other half of my humanity that I seemed to lack became more apparent and more difficult to hide. What was once passed off as a quite shy child grew into an awkward unsettling overgrown creature whose presence was always out of place. The more desperate I grew to fit in with my peers the more they seemed to push me away. My family started to notice my lack of real affection or comfortability around them and they blamed me for not having the relationship they failed to build with me. I couldn't even find comfort in my own mind. Recollections of my childhood constantly looped inside my head like an overplayed movie, bits and pieces of horror that kept me awake at night that took away my will to live.
Around these years she popped back into my life again, still bright as ever, still leaving me in shock with her words, her views, her actions and her presence. This time I wasn't so naive. I had built walls up by then, I knew better than to gawk and stare , to show my amusement, my astonishment and my confusion directly. I was no longer a stupid puppy anymore…. As I built my prison brick by brick and climbed to the very top of my tower of horror, I forgot to leave any railings for people to hold on to if they ever wanted to visit me… to see how I was doing. There and behold she went climbing up my stairs…. She was nowhere close enough to see me but she was far up enough to suffer a very nasty fall if she ever tumbled…. And she did…. Down and down. I failed to realize that she was fragile, that she could feel hurt. I looked past her human making her out to be some God. Smashed her feelings up like badly handled muffins.
I was alone again…. For years after that…. No one dared to climb those stairs ever again….Many enemies came… to siege my tower. To forcibly remove me from it.. They Told me they were there for good… that they wanted me to see the world. But in their struggle my resentment and isolation only grew stronger. Why would I want to step foot in the world that actively tried to destroy everything I held dear? I Fought my battles alone and I earned my fair share of wounds and battle scars many that go unhealed. I have not won the war… It has not even ended…And when I was ready to surrender to tear down my flag.
Someone came climbing up my stairs again…. She came back.. Not without resentment and her fair share of apprehension but back nonetheless. This time she taught me things…Or maybe my ears were finally ready to listen. I told her the story of my life and she taught me how to not let it drown me. But it’s not what she told me it was her. Her spirit… her unwillingness to back down.
Her strangeness, and I tell you this girl was strange. She washes away the mud which had covered my eyes for so long and I discovered the world was so colorful. I saw red passion and rage, I explored with orange caution, I discovered yellow happiness and learned to truly love and understand this green green earth. I sat in my blue…. There was so much blue. It covered my sky and it filled my ocean. But at the end there was also purple beautiful purple rain. I couldn't believe I had been so blind to it all. The world was so beautiful yet I restricted myself only to the black and white that I was raised in.
That day… she turned me into a whole human with my own thoughts, emotions and an undying desire to experience beauty in my life to escape the ugliness I had been surrounded in for so long. That's why she is my Muse.
please follow my friend Rosy's twitch if you want to see the context of me making these stories- https://twitch.tv/rosyshroom. I actually want to pay a special thank you to her. She is the one who I wrote this story about and I would not even be doing this blog if It wasn't for her encouragement. Thank you so much Rosy, I love you so much! xoxo
