When your muse is dead

Muses are fairly known to most people, as inspiration. In ancient times they were considered as being divine deities in human shapes, women mostly. Whispering inspiration to you in the form of music, literature, art.

I had a muse like that. She didn't know, because I never told her. She was the reason I began blogging in the first place. The reason I kept going. We barely talked, but I had a sense that she was important to me spiritually. I didn't know what, how or why. But there was no accident that I found her.

It began a couple years ago when we both were members of the same wiccan web forum. I'd never noticed her before, and never talked to her. But she posted something and got pecked on immediately. She fought back for a while, but gave up reasoning with them, as she was used to people not treat her in a right manner and thus had began an apathetic way of life. I couldn't stand for it and meddled in. Defending her right to believe what ever, trying to make them see that no one can say they hold the truth in their minds. That our word merely is a product of our mind, and thus we all live in different worlds, different realities with different truths.
And I'm pretty stubborn with this, so even though they started to peck on me instead, trying to bring me down, I couldn't care. That is what's so great about realising all this. Even though someone tries to bring you down by telling you that what you believe is wrong, you know that it's just their reality. Not the truth. Not my truth. And therefore I cannot blame them for thinking I'm wrong or for defending their belief. But as our discussion went on and on, she had deleted her membership. I thought of it as sad that they got to her and that she didn't feel welcome, but that's life and I didn't know her, so life just went on.

After a few months I was browsing google for some good exercising tips, and by coincidence, or not, I landed on a blog I later found was hers. I read a few posts and found that despite her young age she was quite intelligent and interesting. So I kept on reading till I'd read it all. And so I found a link to an even older blog of hers and read the whole thing too. I was fascinated by this girl. By her insight and her well expressed thoughts, She was really a writer. And should've gotten something published.

But there was more than her insight that caught my interest. She was incredibly like me. Much more outrageous though, but still very much the same. And I mean very concrete things as well. Like that she was pretty obsessed with the moon, and had moonlike nicknames, as I. But that could fit many. Not many also have a friend called Sun. Not many have both these thing and in the same time think like I, like the things I like, believe the way I do, have experienced the same thing in life. She put words on so many thoughts I haven't even realised I was thinking.

But she was still a bit outrageous. And sometimes too outrageous that I dared befriend her. And then she started using drugs. Heavily. And she openly shared this on her blog. Still as insightful as always, but slowly rot away, both in mind and body. It was hard watching this amazing creature destroy herself this way, but she had already lost her interest in life. I, as so many others, wanted to help her out, and many tried. But I didn't. I was afraid I would do as I always do. Go in to save this girl, get too emotionally attached and devastated when I failed. I always do that. I just hoped she could get through this herself or that someone would manage to help her. But she didn't. And no one else did. And during the Easter holiday this year she died.

She died in a middle of a very tough time of my life, as one of the most important persons in my life had too attempted suicide, leaving me to wreck, in an ocean of self destructive thoughts. And losing my muse didn't make it any better. And I never got to process any of it, as I suddenly found myself between hectic exams and boyfriend quarrels. And suddenly I had neither exams or boyfriend. I had the time and the freedom to do what ever. I never ment for my blog to get neglected. I've tried many times to come up with something to write about, and I do have a lot to write about. I just haven't found the words. I haven't had my inspiration. My muse is dead.

I think I'm still in shock. I'm just still waiting for that new blog entry of hers. But perhaps writing all of this will provide realisation and closure. That awful period of mine is over. I don't need to run from it anymore. I don't need to hide. I don't need to avoid the reminders. Life moves on. And hopefully, so will my blog. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry I haven't blogged in a while. And I'm back.

Your actions will speak louder than you

... Or at least so they say.


In the white silence snow brings, I came to think as I wandered outside about some things I've done over the past few years. I have both said and done some terrible things to people I love, and specially one person I love the most. I know it is easy to say I didn't mean anything of it. And I know it may be hard to believe me. I don't even know what half of it was about. I've actually made things up. Saying I've done terrible things I haven't done just to hurt the targeted. I cant even comprehend my own actions. It's like it wasn't me. I don't feel capable of doing such thing, and would never think I've ever be able to do them, if it weren't for the fact that I've already done them.


As I was thinking about this the song "Don't tell me" by Hoobastank came out of my Heartbeats earplugs from my iPod, yes I'm a proud owner of both!, with the message of actions being more reliable than words. My thoughts wandered even further back to my past, to former boyfriends talking bullshit to my face while cheating on me or psychologically abusing me. And I really agreed with the lyrics. Don't come here spitting poison on me, telling me it is sugar and love. And then my thoughts were again focused on the first story.


Christmas Eve I gave the person I love the most a six page letter, telling all I've ever done wrong and apologising for every action I have and have not done, and for all the hurting words I've said and the comforting word's I never had the courage to say. And I meant every word of it. I wanted to start 2012 fresh, a brand new beginning without lies, without unspoken thought or suppressed feelings. We're best friends. Twin souls. We should not keep things from each other. We had a long conversation about it and I think I am forgiven.


She told me about her own thoughts and feelings in the periods I've been an ass, and the hard times after. She never could forgive me after hearing me say such awful things back then. She actually didn't want to have contact with me at all. I replied that yes, my words could kill people faint at heart, and that I never meant a word of it, and that my actions were despicable and makes me nauseous just by thinking of them. She interrupted and said the actions were forgiven and forgotten long ago, it was the words that ruined everything. And I agree.


It kinda makes me sick thinking I've said those things to such a wonderful person that means so incredibly much to me. I don't know how I'm capable of doing so. I guess it's the Scorpio in me. If I'm hurt, if I'm angry, scared or feel vulnerable or like I'm pushed into a corner, I stab the danger with the most venomous poison I have in store. Scorpios know just what words to say to hurt the most. It doesn't even has to be true. And that is exactly what I've done.


But as I wrote in the letter as well, I have really not been all ass. I've done really wonderful things to and with this girl, and told her over and over how much I love her and shown it in so many creative ways I don't even bother try counting. And she is a Scorpio too, so she can really see it in my eyes that I truly mean it. If the apocalypse were to come, she would be the first I'd run to. No joke. Mother? No. Father? No. Boyfriend? No. Brother? No. Sister and her newborn baby? No. She is the FIRST I'd check on. In a heartbeat.



Yes I've done and said things I'm not proud of, but that is nothing to all the love I've showed. And isn't that weird? That when a person tells you all you want to hear, you say actions will tell the truth. But when you hear the things that hurt you, all the actions of love are forgotten.


I guess it's a defence we humans set up. We do have a tendency to focus on the negative, don't we? We don't want to get hurt, so we just expect that others just pretend to love us. I wonder why we think that way? I don't know why we'd rather think we're hated than loved. How we can close both eyes and ears while love is around, or twist it to a personal attack on your person. I will never get humans. They're sure a fascinating entertainment, but I will never quite understand them nonetheless.


I really believe I'm forgiven though. The atmosphere is different, and her smile is no longer restraint, as it was before. And it feels good having said everything I've been thinking, and being completely honest. You should try it. It feels great.

Tonights thoughts about self esteem

I once dated this guy.
He was a coach. Someone specialised in programming your brain to think positive about your life and live it to the fullest.
We often talked about self esteem. I had none and he had too much. His attempt to give me some was to explain his vision of self esteem. To him there was no such thing as low self esteem. He said it was in the word itself. Steam. Condensed water to air. So it is air. And how can air have such effect on our mind?
I really don't agree. Low self esteem do exist. Only in our minds , but it still exist.

I did some thinking on my way home from work today. Thinking about just this, self esteem. Low self esteem.
I saw this kid. Well kid may not be the right  word, he was probably 17 or sth. But you know. Being 20 I'm so old I could be his grandma. Practically. Anyways. You could clearly see he spent a lot of time, money and effort to look good. To me he didn't pull it off very well, but I know that to the normal rest of the world he is gorgeous. And I thought to myself: "Why do you need to look good?". And then I realised, that is a fucking good question! Why do we need to look good? We're not the ones looking at us, everybody else is. So why do we need others to think of us as good looking? Now give me a good answer to that. Because I ain't got none. I challenge you!

I changed my self esteem literally over night. I scanned my body from toe to fingertips, and wrote something positive about each part. If I couldn't find anything positive (like, what the h.. can you say about knees? How can knees be beautiful anyways?) I wrote that it was completely normal, similar to most people. (i.e. my knees are like any other knees). So now I have a long list, written by myself, of why my looks are perfect as it is. And every time I get low I look at that list. It really changed my vision of myself, and I got more positive and genuinely happy about myself. A crazy yet wonderful feeling I hope you alien stalkers feel or will be able to feel.



Good night my dearest alien stalkers. You are beautiful just the way you are.

I just realised...

 ....You have not yet seen a decent picture of me. Not even on tumblr, because those are really not decent. I do have pictures of me, have no fear. But most of them are on my mac which will be available to me saturday night. So now I sit here and saving those pictures of me taken for the clothing store I work for. Good idea, right? Thinking I'll go ahead and post some pictures later tonight. Awesome. See ya then.