Well, I guess you might say that we’ve had our fair share of arguments because of my writing. I sometimes get so easily distracted by the words and phrases flying out of my fingertips like sparks.
And we might fight because I’m not really present. I’m somewhere else entirely. Not at the kitchen table but rather wondering if it is possible for somebody with broken ribs to climb down a ladder while carrying a medium sized dog. Or how I’m going to get my lovers from the sofa to the bed, and if they should take their clothes off now rather than later.
And we might fight because I’m never really free. Because my fingers are always flying over letters or over the paper with a pen in my hand and I’m sorry. There is no excuse for my fidgeting at the sofa or when she want to cuddle. I just thought of a good ending, or a good sentence or even a terribly great idea that I need to write down, now, now, now, now.
I need to calm down. Sometimes I get obsessed but I need to remind myself that first and foremost, I am not a writer, but hers. Writing have to take the backseat some days. She is so patient with me, she is used to me looking up at her, listening to her even as my fingers never stop dancing over the keyboard. I need to relearn being polite. I need to learn to be present again. To be less distracted.
Sometimes I wonder why they stay with us at all, the men and women unfortunate enough to fall for us people wrecked and possessed by multiple muses.