Making Space for My Muse

Please write a letter to your roommate.

Dear roommate,

Don’t be afraid if you hear noises at night. It’s probably just my muse going out for a walk. I know, she’s really loud. But she never listens to me when I tell her to keep it down.

And she’ll be back in the morning, so please make room for her. She’s greedy and takes up a lot of space. She’s really annoying and she’s also a lot like a rabbit. If you don’t pet her and give her enough attention, she’ll die. Maybe it’s for the best.

Why do I put up with her? She’s my muse. Without her….I don’t know how I’d live. My writing would be absolutely crap, and..I don’t know how I’d live.

What’s I’m trying to say is that right now she has gone to the fridge to get us snacks and that’s why I’m so incoherent in explaining what I mean. Oh good, she’s back. With guac.

My muse is like a lovable golden retriever. Long golden locks. Big brown eyes. A smile as bright as the stars. A smile that can light up all of Palo Alto and cure cancer and -

Sorry. She took over the keyboard for a few seconds, while I was distracted by my guac. Do you see what I have to put up with?

I’m just kidding. She’s the inspiration for my stories and she is the reason I create and she’s amazing. Can’t cure cancer, but amazing nevertheless.

I apologize in...

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