Refusing to be His Muse
1.2k Views · Ongoing · August
After three years together, my artist boyfriend feverishly sketched his female junior during a trip—yet left the exact spot where I had stood for half an hour completely blank.
"You're too rigid. You just blend into the background. There's no need to put you in the painting."
I used to be his muse. But now, he claimed I lacked inspiration and was only fit to be a backdrop.
On our third anniversary, I caught him seeking an "artistic breakthrough" with that same junior—stark naked. When he irritably snapped at me for ruining his perfect lighting, I didn't scream or cry hysterically.
I simply packed my things and boarded a one-way flight to Paris.
Leaving that toxic relationship behind, my entire world opened up. I now run my own wholly-owned art gallery, and I have a partner who truly cherishes me.
Yet now, the very man who once dismissed me as mediocre has chased me all the way to Paris.
Kneeling pathetically on my carpet with bloodshot eyes, he sobs that he can't draw a single line without me, begging me to come back and be his muse once again.
"You're too rigid. You just blend into the background. There's no need to put you in the painting."
I used to be his muse. But now, he claimed I lacked inspiration and was only fit to be a backdrop.
On our third anniversary, I caught him seeking an "artistic breakthrough" with that same junior—stark naked. When he irritably snapped at me for ruining his perfect lighting, I didn't scream or cry hysterically.
I simply packed my things and boarded a one-way flight to Paris.
Leaving that toxic relationship behind, my entire world opened up. I now run my own wholly-owned art gallery, and I have a partner who truly cherishes me.
Yet now, the very man who once dismissed me as mediocre has chased me all the way to Paris.
Kneeling pathetically on my carpet with bloodshot eyes, he sobs that he can't draw a single line without me, begging me to come back and be his muse once again.












































