Cora Carmack [Muse 01] Inspire (epub)

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.I pick up a pen and paper to write down how it feels to be this alive, to be this free.It’s beautiful.Brilliant.This must be how the other gods feel.I might not be human, but that doesn’t mean I’m free from the mortal coil.I’m just not chained to it by life and death.I’m chained by need.But not now, not anymore.I don’t need anything.I write a single word first.Need.One word becomes two.Want.More words spill out of me then, springing to mind faster than I can write them.hope hatred joyfear awake freedomlaughter lies faithbeauty wild desirepurpose truthchange artpain happy regretpassion gracestrength courageshamedream life wonder powersorrow poison peacemercy wisdom belief grief guilttimeloveThe words shift, become sentences.Those sentences tangle and twine into paragraphs, my ideas grow legs and they walk, run, sprint across the page, and I can’t stop.I write all morning, across every piece of paper I own until my desk, the drawers, my backpack are all empty.Then I write across the furniture and the floors and the walls.I write words I love and hate and feel so intensely that they bring tears to my eyes.And the words … gods.They’re everything.All that I am and want to be and hate to be … it’s all in them, and sometimes I sit and marvel at how a series of scribbles can mean so much, how words can hold so much meaning in the space between their measly letters.INSPIRE.I write the word across my living room floor in big, black letters.Then I stare at it, unsure whether I want to scratch it out or deface it or write over it.It’s a curse, that word.A purpose I’m tired of serving.So what if I just … quit?I know what it will do to me.Is already doing to me.Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can look around at my scribed walls and know it’s not normal.I know that I’ve let this go entirely too long, and now the power I wield is stronger than I am.It flexes in me, fierce and hungry, and for a moment, I feel a spike of fear.Then it passes in a wave of euphoria, and I know now why people find me, what I can give them, addictive.It makes me feel brilliant and aware and one with everything around me, and for the first time ever, I understand.Not just an idea or a person or a place.I understand everything.The world.The past.The present.My existence.It’s vast and complicated and I can’t put it into words, but I just know.For the first time in my life, I actually feel like a goddess.I come to a decision then.I draw a D at the end of the word I scrawled on my living room floor.INSPIRED.Maybe this is my curse, but I don’t have to share it.I don’t have to push it on other people.Mortals … they’re fragile.They can die or break or ruin.And I suppose I’m not immune to those last two either, but I’m stronger than they are.And I’ve been so very selfish for so very long.Some already mad part of me rejoices at my decision.Greedy for it, for the way I feel right now.I give in to it.And when I stumble out of my house, my fingers smudged with ink, it’s dark and I am so very alive.Chapter ThreeSince I had come to the States, I had lived in almost every major city in the country.They each have their quirks and specialties, but move around enough and they all start to feel the same.Austin doesn’t feel that way.At least not yet.It is this eclectic mix of modern culture and southern charm and creative freedom.And the best part?I had nothing to do with it.All the imagination and uniqueness is entirely a product of the people who live here.And they are my favorite part.The people are all so different.Hipsters and old money and artists and cowboys and geniuses of industry and technology and musicians and actors.Nowhere else but Austin could they (or would they) all fit together … interact like there are no differences between them.Keep Austin Weird, as they say.I weave through the crowds along Sixth Street downtown.It’s a mile or two south of campus, but now that I’m here, I don’t even remember the walk from my apartment.Which should worry me more, but it doesn’t.My mind and body are barely connected at the moment.Or maybe they’re more intertwined than ever … so in tune that I don’t even have to think about where I’m going or what I’m doing.Which frees up my mind for other things.This section of downtown has been blocked off to traffic, and pedestrians teem through the streets, laughing and talking and singing.Neon signs glow in every other window, music drifts from doorways, and the smell from food trucks and restaurants wafts through the streets.I soak it all in, revel in it.I hear a catcall or two, but my focus is on the lights, the colors.When something catches my eye, I turn and follow.An older man busks on the street corner, his guitar slung over his shoulders and his case open before him.The glint of the coins catches my eye, and then the music curls through my mind, lifting me up and onto a new plane.I stay with him for a while, sometimes dancing, sometimes singing along, until some new thing draws my attention.Eventually, I find my way into a club, up a flight of stairs, and into the crush of bodies on a dance floor.This isn’t at all the kind of dance I used to inspire, used to enjoy, but there’s still something about it that makes me pause.Sweat-slicked limbs.Bodies pressed close.Bass thrumming right through my skin.There’s a strange kind of poetry in it.Raw and animalistic and desire in motion.Once upon a time, I considered myself Greek, so I know a thing or two about hedonism.These days I don’t really claim any place as home.I belong nowhere, so nowhere belongs to me.When I’m in the middle of the crowd, I stand still, picking out shapes and lines in the writhing bodies around me.It really is something to see—the way people interact.Whether they’re friends or lovers or strangers, everyone is connected on this dance floor.One body touches another that touches another without any insecurity, and I wish I weren’t the only one to see the beauty in it.That gives me an idea, and I draw in a deep breath [ 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