There are no winged creatures. There are no bloodthirsty monsters, no, there aren't even any definite shapes, and that is what scares me the most. They're a pale yellow blob of matter, some thinner than paper and some wider than Earth itself. I see no definite sizes, just too large, too small, too tall, too short. The especially large ones suffocate me, constricting my chest so that I can't breathe, and the especially small ones make my head feel as if it is about to explode. The worst part is when they shrink down or grow to a normal size, and I think that it's over for the night, but hen they expand and expand and expand until I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't see. Nothing frightens me more than that, and I'm left with a single sure fact: nothing frightens me more than that which I do not know.
Beauty.
Symmetrical, or not.
Thin, or not.
Perfect, or not.
Flawless, or not.
Intelligent, or not.
Everything, or not.
Beauty has no definition, it can not be contained in a matter of words. Beauty is being yourself, no matter how crazy, awkward, or delusional you may be.
Man has this idea of what is beautiful and what is not, so really, the only person's opinion that you can really count on is your own; don't let us tell you what beauty is, because we could be wrong.
Warning: This May Sound Psychotic
For those of you
Who struggle with muse
This is what you should do.
Take that little bastard,
By the neck and
Slam it's head into the wall
Until it's creativity
Is splattered about the room
Then gather the juice and
Use it to your advantage.
Until there is absolutely nothing
Left.
