I've been thinking over my life so far lately, and I've begun to question why it is that I go for boys I know will let me down, and why it doesn't work out with guys who would actually treat me good. I figured it out though. I'm an artist. I mean, I don't draw or sculpt or anything. But I create masterpieces with my thoughtfully crafted words. I take the English language in my hands like clay and mold it to suit my moods and desires. But I've come to realize that deep-down, I'm one of the tortured artist types. I am more inspired when I have some sort of pain or conflict in my life.
I subconsciously recognize that chaos and heartache can fuel this burning desire to write more than anything else. So I subconsciously look for men to let into my life who will mess it up, men who will let me down time after time until I feel so pitiful and victimized that I write and write. I think I actually seek out rejection sometimes, without realizing it. And when I feel rejected, of course I feel hurt, but I also feel oddly satisfied, like I've fulfilled my burden. I've fulfilled this role I view myself in, that role of the tortured artist. The complicated one that no one else can understand who can only properly express herself with the written word. I think that will be how I can tell if I've found my soulmate. He will get me. He'll see right through all my layers and plot twists, he'll see to the core of my protagonistic heart and my antagonistic mind.
So as I sit and stew with a rock in my heart and a cold in my head, I feel down, but I also feel fulfilled. I feel strengthened as the words flow out of my fingers, creating whole new worlds. I wonder though if I will ever stop choosing the wrong man. It would seem that I must keep choosing Mr. Wrong if I want to continue receiving inspirations. There is something so romantic about unrequited love. I love it. I write so many stories about it. I watch unrequited love at work in my own life as I draw towards men who will only cause pain and as I reject good men who long to devote themselves to me. I feel so alive as I long for someone who won't think twice of me. It reminds me that I'm living, breathing, feeling. And it keeps me in this tortured role that I see myself playing on the stage in my head.
The typical artist archetype: finding inspiration while being beaten down by the world. It's what every artist longs to be: beauty and creation rising out of the depths of darkness and despair. It's a stereotype, but it's what every artist finds themselves reenacting. It's why some artists will dress in odd clothes or become vegetarians. We want to be different. We see the world differently than everyone else. And we want to stand out from the world because we see how straightforwardly bland the whole world is without us and our creations.
But come on, I can't just keep going for Mr. Wrong all my life right? So how will I keep up this level of inspiration when I let someone in my life who will fulfill me and make me happy and stop playing the role of the unrequited lover? I've noticed that requited love can be just as much of an inspiring fuel as heart ache is. I look back at past relationships before I realized how bad they were. I wrote so many beautiful songs and poems for those undeserving men. I wrote my heart out for them. One day, Mr. Right will come along and be my sole inspiration. Until then, I'm an artist without a muse, finding ingenuity in the beautiful chaos that we call life.
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