To my true muse;
Somewhere along the way I realized it, for all that I knew it would end by now anyway; I loved you, and a part of me was never willing to accept that you and I were just something casual and convenient. I still love you, and I still have trouble acting as if it were all an act from the start; I will not jeopardize your new relationship because I have seen how happy it has made you, but a rebellious part of me wishes and dreams still that I could have a chance of competing and being the one that you could finally love again.
I am no fool to believe in such dreams, but when I wake in the morning feeling the invisible memory of your form, or when I casually joke around with you amongst our friends as if there isn’t and wasn’t ever something deeper, a little part of me is screaming inside in agony. I will let go, if only because time and distance and fate dictate it, but I wish it were all right for me to feel these things now instead of burying them under these false pretenses of harsh exteriors. One more mask to add to the pile, when I had thought I had dropped almost all of them in front of you by now.
I don’t blame you, either; she’s everything I could never be along with what few good qualities I possess. I see the happiness in your eyes, and in hers, when you two are together, and I cannot think for an instant that I would be justified in fighting that, but it does hurt. Not just that you could not find that happiness with me, because this is not actually, for once, about my insecurities, but because I honestly thought that I could make you that happy. I was wrong, and I will deal with the consequences, but every stretched too-thin moment reminds me that I almost had you.
I won’t mope long – there’s too much to do – but I needed to put this down in words, to purge it from my soul: I loved you, my second and most passionate muse, and I still do, for all the pretenses and masks that I may wear. I would do anything in my power to see you happy, and I shall never forget you, as you are now and as you were back in the dark shadows offstage that first time, whether or not you remember me.
– A once-upon-a-time artist
P.S. Over a year later, I still dream of you.