My muse is named Zoey. Or Zoe for short.
I don't know how she came to be but she did.
She's about fourteen years old at the max and she has dark black hair that seems like silk made from the finest material imaginable. Her dark-skinned face and brown eyes sparkle and curl into mischievous smirks and twinkles that annoy me to no end.
She is constantly coming up with idea after idea and when she does come up with a good one she never stops pounding until it's written down even if it is unfinished and messy at the end of it all.
She yells in my head and fills my mind with passion and drive to do what I love.
That doesn't mean she doesn't like to take a quick vacation every once in a while and leave me hanging to never be able to come up with my own ideas.
Mischievous little thing she is.
Zoey digs into the deepest, darkest parts of my mind which I never knew existed until she pulled depressing after heart-wrenching depressing story into it's existence forcing my fingers to write it down anxiously in a frenzy of hurried passion and angst.
She pulls all my darkest fears and my most horrifying monsters and demons into the light and make them beautiful again.745Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbtvM6J5rvV
She is my inspiration.
She is my muse.
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