My Lady

I don’t know where she went, or how to get her back.  My muse.  I don’t know that I can even say exactly when she left.  I’ve been ghost writing to get by, until she gets back.  How come I can write for others, but everything I write for me, is crap?  Sometimes I can force it, but it never ends up working.   Can I do a rain-dance to get her back?  I don’t think it works like that, but I need to write! It’s my soul, it’s my world, it’s my life!

How do you adapt to this?  You can’t fight it, or cry about it.  You have to accept it, and move on.  But how can I move on, if my passion is gone?  I know I can write! I’ve done it before!  They gave me prizes, and awards, and cool shit like that.  Now they just stare at me, and hand my writing back.

I hope someday she realizes she misses me, and pops right in my head while i’m sitting here with coffee.  It would be so fantastic to just write and write, and write.  I know I have pent up words, I just need that spark of light.

Maybe if I call her, she’ll realize she’s been gone.  But how do you call something that’s invisible, intangible, and maybe even lost?

“Shut up you fool, stop whining.  I’ve been here all along. You just didn’t see me. You were over thinking, what went wrong.  You can write without me, it’s all inside your head.  Maybe do some soul searching, and find your inner truth.  I can’t fix that for you, it’s for you to figure out.”