Finding My Erato

There is a weird space between optimism and degradation. My mind convinces my heart to go one way or the other but it will never just let me be.

over-thinkingI’ve always been told that I possess an overactive mind. Perhaps that’s why I never grab the daily rag on my way to the sky-train. I’d rather use that time to spin the big giant wheel in my mind in hopes that it might stop spinning by the time I reach my destination and therefore am required by location to act normal for a short period of time. It’s a dangerous trait. A lot of the instances where it kicks into overdrive, it is attempting to sabotage some other part of me. The hardest thing I’ve had to do as an adult is to reduce the impact that my thoughts have on my heart, on my life. Eventually I would like to work together with it’s insanity, but that might just be too far fetched. Again, last night, it tried to take the legs right out from under my chair.

My immediate goal is to find the one thing that will without a shadow of a doubt flip my coin back to an optimistic face.  While the pup always forces joy into my heart, it’s a little different then hope. At about midnight last night, I just stopped and looked off my balcony. My life has come so far, in such a short time. Finding what I was put on this earth to create. Finding what type of persons I want in my life. Having a dependant furry life-time friend. Finding out what real friendship feels like, what real heartbreak feels like. Overwhelming me a great deal. When my mind is still, it’s more dead than ever. When my body settles, I struggle to stay awake. I’m officially mentally and physically exhausted.

I need a few weeks of easy living to recoup. Luckily, my outlet is written, which I can do from anywhere. Often times I write better when I’m at my wit’s end, because I’ve lost control of which filters to apply.

The-muse-The-Muse-Erato-greek-mythology-17860288-300-300For the first time ever, as an artist, I’ve met a muse. I used to think the idea of a muse was an urban myth that other artists used to fuel love in other artists. Instead, it’s a terrifying uncontrollable urge to put lead to sheets, words to lines, feelings into language. When I think about her, or who she is, or what she stands for, I get the most exceptional flood of ideas. They don’t always focus around her (or a fictional version of her), as I’ve written some pretty horrific little stories in the past week. But I’ve also oozed something beautiful from my mind. A love story. Being near or speaking to a muse, is like being possessed. You’re not sure why your mind is flying at a thousand revolutions per second, or where to start your interpretation of those thoughts. I’m not certain I can do it justice by inaccurately trying to put across how it feels. You know that analogy about having room after room of information in your head, and in order to be a decent artist you’ve got to learn to open those doors yourself without waiting for them to slip open on their own? Well, it’s like she’s running down the hallway of my mind, opening every door she comes across. Every now and then she hits a supply closet or something with really random thoughts behind it, which never ceases to startle me. It’s intoxicating. The greatest high I’ve ever felt. It’s a very freeing state of self.

I will continue my journey on the road to real happiness and satisfaction. But any other writer in the world can tell you, that the second I write something down I hate it. We just learn to delete less, and contemplate our details as little as possible. So maybe it’s a waste of time to seek satisfaction. My life couldn’t get any more broad. I can wake up tomorrow, and accomplish pretty much anything I want to. With each day that passes, I feel more and more alive. As I haven’t been flourishing for a long stretch of time now. So the opportunity’s sudden arrival has left me a little lost and stumbling around in the dark.


I think it all started with this blog. I have found a solid release of some negativity that brews. A place where I’ve got no reason to speak softly or bite my tongue. That is good and all, but then came the flood of appreciation. It swept me off the floor and onto the drawing board. I have never been one who’s warm when it comes to accepting compliments, but I feel that the words I write down and the thoughts I have are the most important thing about me. So when it comes to these sickening cases of type-vomit getting praise, by fans and by some important people, I stutter and try to hide under my desk for a little while. I guess the success and affection I am receiving will only grow in size, so maybe it’s about time I get used to it. Or at the very least, don’t instinctively blurt out terrible things about myself to those complimenting me.

Thank you for continuing to read my stuff, and sending love my way. You’re all amazing people. I look forward to meeting more of you.

“As you wish” – Princess Bride



Nominated Writer & Award-Winning Cynic. Wyatt Lives on the West Coast of Canada and is the founder of ForFoxes. He be found on twitter at @w_fossett

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