Friday, June 22, 2012

The Writer and the Muse

What a pleasure it is. To be written about. Have a story woven around you. You as the protagonist. You are the inspiring factor for a series of events, leading to a fiction. An idea behind a thoughtful Thursday. A muse behind a Wednesday when words are pictures. A Monday when you are the object of an ode. What a divine feeling of euphoria it is, to find a place in a Tangy Tuesday Gossip. To make people think, talk about you, to the extent that they end up writing about you.

It's a game of psychology. A sheer mind game. Where you rule, and the writer is swayed so easily, that he/she ends up writing about you.

What a pleasure it is. Sometimes, sadistic too. When you induce pain, to get a reaction, which indirectly is written as a post. A series of plots, being created to form a labyrinth which is so intriguing that you keep going into it, knowing the fact that there wouldn't be a way out.You'd like it immensely, when you are the reason for a sad disposition, more than being a reason for happiness.

I think, when one's mind is weaving negative thoughts, the creativity is at it's peak. I feel the dark side of a human being is more creative. Just like an abstract painting is more appealing than the one with clear, well-defined features.

You wish to have no definition. You wish to know nothing about yourself, while being written about. You want to be a constant process. A process of discovery, unraveling the most intense and profound aspects of your being. You want to be written about such that, you are remembered for the similarities your character draws with the reader.

The writer portrays you so well, like you both were one person. One soul. One mind. One heart. You like reading, when your nuances, hidden secrets are exposed, out in the light. You may feel a something piercing your heart. The tiny tinge of pain slowly creating a ripple and making you laugh at the idiosyncrasies of your human existence. Sheer human.

A gratification indeed it is, to be written about. You like it when I write about you. I like it ,when I am written about. Pleasure. Intense, inexplicable pleasure.