To My Muse

Dearest Muse,

I am so sorry, more so than you will ever know. I have both literally and metaphorically chained you to a keyboard. I have shouted obscenities at you and tried to force you to do what I want, completely neglecting your needs. You are but a child and I feel like I've been trying to get you to write an essay on your most hated subject, slapping you with a ruler each time you spell something wrong.

I've also been mean to myself. It is unhealthy for both you and I to continue on going this way. I have downgraded myself, called myself names, and claimed myself unworthy of accomplishing anything. I have been letting the adult kill you, and letting my demons win. I vow, little Muse, to never harm you in any way, shape or form again.

I have never procrastinated or been too lazy to write, instead I ignored that there was another part of me—you—and neglected to realize you only want to play. I have sat you in front of the dreaded blinking cursor and blank word document, neglecting to hear you scream in protest. I have made you sit here without play for a very long time, making myself a shut-in and forcing us to do something that neither of us ever wanted—to work. I've made writing one of those chores that never goes away. I don’t want it to be like this any longer. Both of us deserve our freedom.

A long time ago, we used to enjoy writing. The words would come together on a page just as they do as I’m writing this letter to you, never seeming forced or wrong. But then I began to over-analyze and hurt myself because things were bad at home and that’s when you started your defiant march. Writing was my escape from the abuse and I wholly depended on you, the little child inside me, to make all of my problems disappear. I hear you now, loud and clear. That part of our life is over and I will never hurt myself again. I will not let the demons beat you down and I will unlock the handcuffs I've angrily placed on my laptop, chaining you to eternal torment forever. You may play, you may live and be happy, and so will I.

Together, when we want to write, and those words fall onto the paper like old times, you will see how much I am trying not to try. You are my friend, my favorite little cousin, my sister, my teacher and counselor. You are a part of me. You are my favorite part of me. You are my creativity and the both literal and metaphorical light at the end of my tunnel. I will preserve your child-like innocence and let you blossom into an adult when you see fit. Thank you for enduring all of this with me, and forgiving me. I know there’s a reason why I was able to write this and why my mind is clearer suddenly.

Thank you for the best parts of my day and the jokes you provide me with, thanks for the mottoes you store in a cabinet and show me when I cry, thanks for your use of big words that surprises me and the philosophies that brighten my days and keep me occupied. Thank you for patting me on the back when we finish the last chapter and the helpful insight on why the world is how it is. But most of all, thank you for tossing out my razor and telling me that enough is enough. Thank you for showing me I don’t need heroin to escape, all I need is a pen and paper. Thank you for bringing me back and saying “you’re not leaving that easy, it’s not time yet” when I felt my heart stopping and the needle twisting inside my skin.

Thank you for stopping me so many times from killing myself, and so many times cheering me up when there was only darkness in my world. Thank you so much for staying with me throughout the good and bad. And I truly thank you for the best years of my life. I thought for the longest time I was alone, and now I realize I never was. Eleven years I've spent writing with you, and when I hurt you, you stayed (even if just to sit in the corner and say “I won’t do that”). You never once gave up on me, and that’s more than I can say for anyone else in my life. I am proud to say that I know you, and every day I learn more about both of us and I am slowly starting to love myself. I will no longer hate our flaws, I will cherish them. I will show you that I am worthy of every word you provide me with. Thank you, Muse, I owe you my entire life.

Love, Stormy