Painful Inspiration

What is my Muse? While I wish I could say “my family” or “God” or some other happy thing, sadly, in my case, pleasant things are not inspiration to me. My Muse is the pain I carry with me everyday. The pain you don’t see behind my mask (especially if I don’t want you to see it). 

If you were to strike up a conversation with me, it’s almost guaranteed you would have no clue as to the suffering I experience. My mind and soul are breaking, but my composure is very strong. Maybe I’m punishing myself, but for whatever reason most people have no idea how truly sad and miserable I am. 

This is something I’ve felt almost my entire life. Almost everything I create is because of the pain I have. I wish it were different. I wish I could just be happy and write happiness, but sometimes it’s more than a will to change or a decision to be happy. Sometimes it’s a parasite latched on to you and this parasite does not want to be found; so it won’t be. 

I share my darkness more than I probably should, but the reasons I do that are so I don’t completely lose my shit (think pressure release valve), I can process/work through/cope with what’s going on, and so someone out there who feels alone in their suffering might happen upon my words and not feel so alone anymore.

And maybe so I don’t feel so alone anymore. 

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