The writer's muse

writer's muse

The cursor keeps blinking, at the end of a full stop. 

It is about time Hannah stops writing about her depression, maybe she had a good audience- but at the end of the day she would much rather be master of none than a specialist. 

"Are you here?"

She asks into the empty void of her bedroom. Her floor occupied by anything that could leave an impression behind- carving knives, pens, papers, soda. The walls filled with a few sticky notes and her artwork two unfinished painting and an caricature of Mr. Hendricks, her professor, Ms.McFee, her counselor and her mum.

"Run away, Hannah, you are getting way to comfortable here" Mr. Hendricks is a little over thirty with the wisdom of a thousand year old turtle and somehow he was always there when she needs him.

Truth is Hannah is a designer, people say that she is a better artist as logic and reality is something she would avoid altogether sometimes, but lately as unique became the new norm, what exactly is normal anymore?

Although what I really like about Hannah (which most people might hate), is that she strives to be extraordinary, she hopes to be worthy and in the process loose a little bit of happiness along the way. I would never be entirely sure what she wants- money( yes), freedom to travel(yes). 

Yet what is the point of both if you don't have someone to spend on, what is the point of experience if you do not have anyone to share it with. This is why she prefers to be beautiful- good skin but sacrifice your brain.

That is not true- she does like being pretty yet her duty lies with far greater things. She had an obligation towards things most people wouldn't even think about. 

"I was put here on this planet, for a reason- what exactly can I give back?"

Time she doesn't have herself- mostly spend scrolling through her phone for inspiration. Truth is she gets inspiration the same way most people would- talking to something that breathes and talks and walks on two legs, taking a walk, yoga and coffee. Yet pinterest seems like a good place to turn to when you don't want to move a muscle.

What she lacks in time she prefers to give back in spirit- it is about time that she stops lying to herself- its more about glory than duty. Simplest of things to give back what was given to you- helping a friend, cleaning her room herself, cooking her own meal without an occasional chicken or fish, but she hopes to an architect- urban planning like Mr.Hendricks wants her to do.

Yet in circumstances- she see's the best in people, which is what I like about her. She prefers to stay alone than mingle, prefers to not post her great voyages to a cafe on social media.

The last one in the corner was her favorite, it is the one of Sam sinking deep into the sea, and he is very rarely seen without his suit and oxygen mask. Now Hannah had never met Sam- he is just someone who had everything she wanted. 

Freedom.

The resource and time to do whatever they want. Tall, lean, carved by god himself; although she gives him way too much credit- she can't stop idolizing. I'm still waiting for the day she'll realize that he is as much as flesh, bones and blood as she is.

"Am I early?"

"When have you ever been on time?" he gave her a smile barring all his teeth. 

"Sorry"

"Where to, this time?"

"Costa Rica" she nodded along, having nothing further to contribute;

"Here" he points to the region between the Caribbean and Pacific somewhere along central America;

"Had nice beaches" he leans in closer just enough for her to hear "you should go there sometime"

That is something he could hear her saying at the end of all his adventures 'you should go there sometime'. Sad thing is, she never had the wings he had- hers were regularly plucked tamed and pruned. 

"That would be weird" she shrugs "I'm not a tropical person"

Didn't mean she wouldn't go if she had the chance. She would never pass on the opportunity to travel. Out of all the things, she considers as a waste of time- making friends, sleeping; travelling doesn't seem to be in the category.

"You can't be sure unless you don't try" she simply shrugs. Truth be told it had been awhile since she's been to a waterfall. Her friends did invite her last week but she had to refuse because- she doesn't know the reason herself. 

"Maybe- maybe not"

"What are you working on right now?" she hopes that she had something to say to him-'On a new book' ' this commission art' 'a store interior' 'designing a furniture' -alas she had none.

This agitates her- time wasted- yet it just feels so natural do nothing at all, Sam could never- just be, he had to do something- be somewhere, make something amazing.

"Nothing" his face falls, but he immediately rebuilt it for her. It's not like he didn't know that, he wouldn't be here otherwise. 

"You don't have to pretend" I'm disappointed in myself too.

"Sam" her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before ultimately keeping quiet.

"There's nothing you can hide from me remember; I'm a part of your conscious- so if you try lying you'd only be fooling yourself"

He stares at the sketch of his sinking before giving in "I really do wish I was more like you-" more alive, more than just a walking dead mass -I wish I had stories to tell, something to look forward to everyday, something to cherish"

"I fell very empty"

He nods along "But you do know what you want don't you- your just afraid"

"I'm more afraid of ending up as the girl next door forever" I want to be the girl who's never at home or the rebel or the cool aunt(in ten years to a few niece or nephew).

"And you say that you have nothing to look forward to"

"Those are just dreams Sam, they come from the same place you do" from my mind, where her thoughts come from, some are really dark that they have the potential to kill yet blackmail her to keep living for her parents.

"Dreams do come true, Hannah" she looks at him wondering into a distance- she had always wondered did he have someone to guide him like he does for her "You just have to believe in them" 

"You just have to feed the right demons" 

"Architecture, huh?" he looks at the pamphlet on the table "I didn't know"

There is something about buildings that always seem to fascinate her-  yet she didn't want to join a school- they would only ruin her plans further. She didn't want to design for people she wanted to design for the senses- something humans possess that they are not worthy of. 

She had experienced this in a very few cases- music center, art gallery, a summer palace.

She wanted to build monuments that will last beyond her life and her great grand children, she wanted to-

"I want to build something where you can visit"

Just like that he was no where to be found.

She goes back to her laptop and writes her first piece in a long time

The cursor keeps blinking, at the end of a full stop.