the muse
2003-06-07 � 5:18 p.m.

Mood-surprisingly chipper

Rainbow Connection-Kermit the Frog

"Nobody ever REALLY knows anyone, and the moment you think you do, they change right before your eyes." Clara's Heart

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I need a hobby.

I used to fancy myself a poet. Since I was in third grade I've been writing stories and poems and winning scholastic accolades for being so "prestigious and accutely aware of literary prowness for such a cloistered child". Yeah whatever.

So anyways...all during high school my popularity seemed to ride on the fact that I was the girl that made the comic strips and cool pictures of couples and the great love poems that circulated all through the school (sans my name) to create or flame high school sweethearts, and the last thing I remember telling them all was that I was going to write a book. Everyone seemed so supportive and they really acted as if I could do this that I really believed it myself. I was drunk on high school notoritity and on my life I swore I would be a famous writer one day...see what happens when a nobody gets a bit of attention?

A fucking disaster.

First year out of school- nothing

Second year- nothing

Third year- started collecting and choosing poems I liked...and writing new ones for the book

Forth year- nothing...got hooked into going into poet chat rooms online, so I became an online celebrity with a itty bitty fan base (I love you guys!!)and the book fell to the wayside

Fifth year- started to compile material on the computer

Six year- entire book was deleted from my database due to a wicked virus downloaded by my father

Seventh year- still pissed about sixth year

Eigth year- completed and printed book and began to edit hardcopy

Ninth year- uh...still editing...

So next year is the reunion and I have nothing...I am dry. I don't even like to proofread my work. I don't like the memories that come with them so I avoid them. Year nine I fell in love...and year nine I have been completely blocked. I haven't written anything good. Nothing about him at all. I just...can't find the words. I thought maybe it was because I was too happy and I didn't know how to write "happy", but now that I'm alone and somewhat miserable, still, I come up empty.

I always have poems and stories floating around in my head...good ones too...but when I sit down and try to write them out...they disappear. I don't know what's wrong with me. I have no release...no creativity...

I no longer have my voice.

So now, on top of the pressure I am starting to feel about my reunion, I also have my internet friends and chat room buddies that are wondering when the book is finally going to come out. I avoid them now too.

I feel it struggling inside of me...trying to break back to the surface...but something is holding it in. Like it's waiting for something. I need my muse...I need misery. When he was my muse I could turn out several good pieces a day no problem.

I need release....I need to feel vindicated....I need my flow back....

I need my voice.

Please misery, please....come back to me. I promise I will never abandon you again...I will never put anyone in front of you...you are all I need. I'm sorry I took advantage of you...but you were taking over me...I couldn't live or breathe and I thought it would be easier without you....but it's not...I was wrong...I have to be with you to live and breathe...to have a voice you have to take me over....please come back...

I need you.

I love you.

I am dying without you.

Come back to me...Please.

Calling all muses, calling all muses...we have a poet down in the failed relationship sector and we need back up...repeat...poet down in falied relationship sector and we need back up. Please respond.