Penny Lane. the muse. the myth. The Legend

One of my favorite compliments use to be ‘I love your energy.’ not. you’re beautiful. there are many beautiful things. people. birthed by women. not you’re kind. a heart that sees yours. you’re smart. we can all learn. it was the unseen. the forbidden. emotionally driven and energetically felt. ray charles could see the aura. but now. now I see it as a threat to my life. truly. officer, put the gun down. i didn’t do nothin’. my hands are up. because the amount of times, i’ve been killed, harrassed. left for dead after that compliment touched my ears. i’m done. she’s done. i give up. more than likely, you will hate me in 5,4, 3, 2, blast off. bullet to my heart. now i gotta go into resurrection mode like jesus. again. for the fifthy eleventh time.

no. but what is it about women who remind us of sunshine? running through sunflowers. even if you never have. you just imagined it. it’s her freedom. it’s the feeling of feeling seen. accepted. like a warm mother’s hug. she reminds you of love. like where you come from. she gives love freely. she gives. her energy. her heart. to uber drivers. for 15 minutes. to be exact. a friend who just became one 5 minutes ago. you need help? she got you. the friend you never knew you needed.

they’re the girls who inspire your favorite songs. paintings. mona lisa. her energy lives through lifetimes. deaths. immortal. the feeling. the wholeness. the love. she’s cultivated is one she wants others to meet. but within themselves. a portal. or a mirror? is it the same or does it differ? the ones who walk in love walk to a different beat. Experience a different life. some call it heaven on earth. she tends to meet angels called strangers. especially at the bar.

you never meant to fall in love. because you never believed in it. or maybe you just prefer control over love. but who can control a girl made of love? a wild woman. who inspires you to feel & invites you to be. yourself. authentically.

& the words, i love your energy were once music to my heart. i felt seen. for my essence. not my flesh. but i didn’t notice the lust that comes with that because it wasn’t always physical. some lust to exist next to you. consume your energy. mimic. compare. me. blindsided. once i decided to care. when your love and energy becomes someone else’s supply and source of energy, envy or possession might creep in… because admiring a light can easily turn into a game of dimming it. admiration can become a jealous game of embodying your light like a mask instead of doing the hard work to cultivate your own.

the muse. she’s worshipped from afar, but destroyed up close. they always love how you move. not your stillness. love your beauty, but not your breakdowns. they want access to your magic & never the maintenance. place you on a pedestal and praise your fall. they need your glow and throw away your grief. that is unless it serves them bc he’s an artist. & suddenly that pain is inspiration. & the heartbreak that comes with that is not one i am willing to experience anymore. to pour love into friends. sometimes for revival. the gratitude. the loyalty. and the hate that comes with the comparisons and yearning to possess. it’s not worth it. the way people admire the flame, but get burnt by it when they realize that your reality is not theirs. now you’re the bad guy.

like the movie, there’s a thin line between love & hate. the way men have hidden their dark secrets behind the brightness of my eternal sunshine. even i was blinded because they regularly plugged into my charging station. not another blind spot.

sis is me. sis is tired. leave me alone. because people oftentimes love the idea of your light & energy, but can’t hold space for it or let it exist without the thief of comparison creeping in. if anyone is in charge of protecting my energy. it’s me. so call me a retired muse. friend. and lover girl. these things no longer faltter me. i was in danger girl.

penny lane is fictional, but i’m real. & that stuff hurts. with great love & admiration comes an abundance of hate & i’m tired of being hated. the sad part is, i don’t even know who i am without giving my heart to the world. i call this an identity crisis.