I love you, 
I wish you could see;
The beauty you gave to me. 

![C8072355-2212-4C76-831C-C9ABD8DBB926.jpeg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmdHn1j2buLvu4133fK1SXmTfbsKrbvDagoqAqh5gqUPL5/C8072355-2212-4C76-831C-C9ABD8DBB926.jpeg)


Dear Muse, 

Why was I constantly trying to be someone else’s dream instead of living in my own dream girl body? I am a writer; I am sorry you didn’t know. I am sorry you were my muse. I am sorry I used you for art — I had too. I apologize too much for things I am suppose to do; create. I felt that was art. I stand by myself and that decision. 

How else could I create art and poetry and hang them on my little refrigerator on the interweb? I write from truth. And I am so sorry I am not sorry. One day I’ll send you lots of clients. I respect in you in every sense of the word. And I only hope to one day earn yours. It’s as simple as that. 

Why did I abandon all these projects at fame? Tiktok queen is just a wannabe. Because I desired something genuine instead of manufactured. And the only thing I can give right now that is genuine is my truth in a random crypto blog. However  flawed. However perfect. I cannot speak about chiropractic — what the fuck do I know? Not anything right now. I cannot even convince myself on the legitimacy of TRT or network.

 I must be able to explain in detail what I preach to be true. I must deeply know it to be truthful. So right now, all I am doing in school — is learning. And was I am going to preach from that pulpit as a mere student? I couldn’t. That wasn’t real. That wasn’t true. The only thing I could share is free verse poetry letters from hell. That’s the only constructive artwork I could produce, besides abstract paintings. And I am moderate at both, improving and growing everyday. That’s the difference. I do it because this is who I desire to grow into — an artist working in the name of chiropractic philosophy. 

And if you ask me what the fuck does that means? I have no idea. It’s what I am attracted to follow, pursue and figure out in this lifetime. And that’s the best that I have; and you too. 

I hope in 20 years to be able to articulate better this narrative I have in my head for my future career and life. And for now, I’ll just go about living and studying by myself. What the bullies said was true. I must have self-efficacy if I desire to be respected by a peer group; eventually. You won’t stop hearing my name. I’ll linger on the tongues of peoples mouths for good and for bad — that’s okay. I am allowing myself to shine again; regardless of what they think. I was born to play this character and I have found the good in myself — I don’t need their opinions. I have my own. And it’s all found to be bullshit, eventually. Time ruins the ideas of the past. 

I spout out better solutions every single day. 

The only thing promised is death. I have to live my truth; I have to write and film to stand on stage. I must shine the light I was suppose to bring into the world from the underbelly of the universe. 

So I wrote and I write — thus I can’t be friends with you. Because I must honour you for the role you played in my life. You are welcomed to every party I attend. You are welcome to my house for dinner. I love you still; it’s just that you are my muse. And all that means is — you helped me feel again. It’s hard to look you in the eye when I am scared I crossed you so. That’s the price I pay to put my art somewhere. I have to bleed. I try to hide it on in language steeped in lyrical linguistics. I am so grateful for who you were to me. I am grateful for who you are and whoever you grow into be. I know you will be successful. I know you will prosper.  

It feels so good to express; genuinely and share my life’s history. I am waking up from this slumber of who I was pretending to be to all the people that mattered. They all needed to know that this is who I am — and I am sorry I share too fucking much on the internet. I know, I know. Before I even think about other following me; I had to begin to follow me, first. 

What did I value? What was I attempting to share? Why? I lingered on my intention enough to know that I did not do this out of malice. Just out of the need to express. And I think the letter is beautiful. Even though I don’t fully agree with it now. I had to begin to respect myself; internally. I had to post. I had to remove these sources that gave me external validation that acted like a cheap high. I must create today even if I regret it tomorrow. 

I desire to be online; I have to get digitalised. There’s this beauty in a sort of permanence.  I must love me at the end of the day; so this is what I must do. Write, even online. I have to write what I feel. And I wrote it so universally. It applies to so many people in so many different ways. There’s pieces of that work of art I’ll pick out over the years. It’s helping me write fiction. And put my emotions into storyline’s that isn’t you and I. I am sorry not sorry. I used to be incredibly submissive. And that’s just not me. 

I feel better when I write.
And I try to hide it.

I didn’t value my voice and now I see my words as razor blades. 

This is what I must do and I am sorry not sorry. I apologise. I am not that girl anymore; I decided to stand up. I wish I was more sorry about posting something online. The personal stuff isn’t going to change. I am sorry you taught me something? I hope you’ll be honoured, one day — my muse. 

You see, I am on a mission to conquer. Not you; that was my mistake. None of this was about anyone but me. I projected on others, I felt old wounds, I saw the patter. I have to give my words to the world; I have to let my talents shine. And we are all just so different and oh so the same. 

Chiropractic sent for me — they needed a different kind of an artist to share truth with the world. I’ll reach that person. I’ll lift them up. I want them to know; their body is not broken. Hmm, I learned that in birth. To witness my change from maiden to I don’t give a fuck with a bra is crazy indeed. I am happy to be alive. I am happy that this inner person has been freed. The body heals the body and everything else is secondary. The body heals the body; I want the world to know just that. One day when I die I hope that each mother and father; brother and sister — every he she they ze zir. I want them all to know, “the body heals the body. Now go see a chiropractor.” And I’ll do it in my own way; artistically. I’ll do it through films and media. One day I hope to win a Grammy. Maybe an Oscar at the academy awards. I am already an Emmi, so maybe a few of those. They said I could reach for the stars; my doctor told me I could shoot for my optimum potential — so I am doing it. 

I am living; I am choosing life over any other alternative. I am doing what I was born to do even if it is hard. Even if it requires eating. Even if that requires loving a bigger body. I must look at the girl I once thought was fat and say damn she looks healthy. I must love her body. I must love if I get heavier. I must love myself for being strong not skinny. I saw my perspective as not the only one; not the only option. I must get healthy. That’s what chiropractic did; it allowed me to believe in myself. 

You know why I write. I am writing to you, not him. I am speaking to you, not all of them. I am speaking to the girl who helped me see the best in myself — the girl who helped me pick up the pen instead of the pipe. The girl who inspires me to get off the couch. I value you; sisterhood. I am just not a sorority girl. I just kind of don’t fit in and that’s okay. I am really okay with that now. It feels better to be who I truly am over the opinions of others. I now have stupid rules that don’t revolve around diary and eggs. Instead around the color blue. I crossed your boundary; that’s the truth. I got involved in a situation that was not mine to comment on. Why? 

I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how I was brainwashed to think others were suppose to steer my ship. I didn’t see all the times I was disrespected. I saw my own body as just arbitrary lines drawn in the sand. Who was I? It depended on who held the stick in their hand. I bended and molded to the opinions of others. 

From afar I felt things so misplaced and rearranged. I’ve recorded my entire life story and will hide it on YouTube. I can’t be ashamed of who I am and I can’t tell myself these weird lies of fairies and bullshit I don’t understand. I am just going to live my life whimsically doing what I want and that requires sacrifice. I smoked too much. And I had to grow up. I didn’t want to let go. In a few months I’ll wake up at 30 only to hopefully age gracefully till 102. I am going to die. I want a long life. I want these things; I refuse to wither away in self pity. I desire to grow from these same wounds that anchored me down. I desire to pull it up from the ground. I am not afraid to speak up. I am not afraid to shout. I am not afraid to scream. Thus, I must obey now and be quiet. 

I’ll doing my own art over here. I am not bothering anyone. I now am sharing the deepest works of art I created because of all of that. And it has nothing to do with you. If I ever win an award on stage; I’ll thank you, not him. I’ll stand with you — not him. I can’t speak for the boys anymore. I am female; I work for the girls. And truthfully, I betrayed you. I understand if you are mad at me in any way. You see I had to walk away. I had to see my negative attributes loud and clear to stop. And I heard it all. I lay my Cupid arrow down to rest; this maladaptive pattern had to end. It was a childhood thing that never died. For that — all I am sure you are well aware; I am sorry. For writing and expressing  — I am not. 

I am sending this to you alone. Not to him, not to her. Meaning, this link won’t be passed around to the frat. I write this for my own healing. And hope that one day you can forgive me in your heart for your own sake. Anger is poison. I should have never told him what you told me not to say. For that you have every right to be mad. I am sorry I crossed you. 

And I am growing for my own sake. Words are not enough — only action this time. I know what is up from down; and you know the letter spoke some amount of truth for you to read the first one twice. There’s something that resonates to stir any emotion; triggers are real. My artwork was a granaid. I threw it because I am an artist born to create. And I’ve learned how to craft my work however I want too. This is the only space I have that doesn’t have rules. 

That’s it; I’ll wear a mask if I have too. I like being alone. I’ll go to class; I’ll sit front row. I’ll do my homework, I’ll palpate and adjust will. I’ll do it all. I just needed a space to break through. It’s this inner conflict I have when I create. 

Did I say too much truth? 
Did I share too much of myself? 
But at the end of the day; who cares?

Good art is divisive.
Good artist divide. 

And I’ll be true.
I’ll divide. 

I am going to shoot for the stars.
Even if I mess up and screw up online for the sake of this craft I have called life however the fuck I want. 

Writing is just the way I survive.
Freedom of speech. 
Freedom to divide.
Triggers are unavoidable. 
So I make art that everyone hates
But I love. 

I love. 

And I truly loved a piece of you. 

Thank you. 

For sharing a piece of yourself with me.
I can’t stay home forever — I must go forth into the world of the poets. Who am I but an acorn nevertheless. I know you know the sentence have beat. That’s why I posted it; I liked hearing the the rhythm of my truth. I shared it because it sounded so fucking beautiful. 

You are worth everything you think you are; queen, you are no wannabe. I harbor no Ill will and bow my head to your accomplishments. I hope you see your beauty; I hope you respect your inner self more than the need for approval. You are already strong enough. You are beautiful on your own.

I wrote those letters to be empowering. I wrote those letters because I wanted to see what I just didn’t get. And I saw that I never should have been involved in the first place. I saw the wound behind this maladaptive pattern. I grieved this inner child. I buried this rebellious teen. 

Thank you for what you showed me. You showed me thing I needed to fix in myself. You showed me how to love myself. You were my spiritual teacher and you didn’t even know. 

I love you, 
Your humble student
The artist. 
@laurabell