I met a muse. But she wasn't mine

I met a muse. But she wasn't my muse. I told her I admired her and other muses and I often thought that if I could chose to be anything, I would love to be a muse.

She said that I was being stupid.

What a bitch.

She then explained herself. A muse, as rewarding as it might seem to be, is in reality just legalized theft. She is the inspiration to many many people. She is the reason behind people's ideas or actions. She sends people on successful paths. What does she get out of it?

Nothing, she said. Not anymore at least.

In the beginning, this muse said it was flattering. She helped people. People naturally felt inspired around her. She was infectious. Her energy. Her ideas. Her zest for living life to the full potential.

She rubbed off on people and their lives subsequently improved.

In some cases, they improved in unbeleivable ways.

She said she met a boy who had nothing. No high school diploma. No car. No job. No girlfriend. No future. Nothing. Four years after they had met, he got his GE, landed a job, bought a car AND a home, and got married.

She met another guy who abandoned his family at the age of 18 and was living in the living rooms of random houses, doing speed. No degree. No job. No car. No girlfriend. No future. Five years later, the man reconciled with his family, quit doing speed, moved back home, found a job, bought a used car and is dating a nurse.

Her long time friend didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. She started college under a major she thought she would enjoy. A year after meeting her muse, she changed majors, graduated with honors and is working her dream job.

This muse has met countless lost, weak, insecure souls only to turn them around and send them on a more positive path.

She always left people better than when she found them.

How can she not take these things as compliments, I asked? She's changing people's worlds and she didn't have to do much. It's beautiful. I told her she was stupid for complaining.

As she looked around, she leaned in closer and whispered, "As happy as I am for the people I've touched, I can't help but to feel a tinge of jealousy that I haven't met my muse yet."

She continued her rant. She confessed it sucked to see everyone around her succeed and flourish and be happy and she stays the same. It especially sucks these people don't even realize that she's their muse. She gets no credit. She gets swept under the rug and she's forgotten as these people are engulfed in their new life.

I didn't know how to sympathize. I've never had a muse, either ... so I tried and offered her my two cents: Maybe she was more blessed than these lost, weak, insecure souls.  Maybe she doesn't need a muse as much as they did.

I don't know.

She looked at me, sucked it up and smiled. She gave me a hug, and without a word walked away.

I sat there thinking about what she said. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. She didn't give herself enough credit.

But I guess most people don't.