It's days like today that I miss SWG. Even though she wasn't a persona, as she was a very real girl, I felt like I could be more open with her. She empowered me with her history and her honesty. Of course, she was me; me still hiding, unabashed in all my reclusive glory, only venturing out for small spells of love bordering on fantasy and both real and non-existant sexual story-telling. She was me, with her heartbeat and break, the lover, the mother, the survivor, the poet; both the amuser and the amused.
Having a real life now brings both the good and the bad, and it's the bad that makes me miss her the most.
I'm the muse now, a fact that's bringing me both happiness and just a tiny bit of fear. Is it strange that I'm having trouble writing it now that it's all real life and not some blend of life and fantasy? There's got to be some kind of balance, I still see the fantasy in my poetry. I just haven't quite found it yet.
But I will.
Because I'm smart, and lovely, and awesome, and still me.