AZANA SIGHED. SNUGGLING into Alion’s chest, she wondered if this was all that lay in her future. Was there no other desires, no other drives, to fuel her, other than loving him? Wasn’t that the weakest kind of strength? To be spurred on by love for another? Wasn’t that the worst kind? Shouldn’t she be motivated by her own ambitions? What good was love in the world, especially when it came to fulfill what happened to her?
But that was just it. What mattered to her?
Well, Alion, of course. And her family and her home. But those were things, not anything to do with her. They were just her feelings. Her feelings of love and protection. She wanted to ensure their happiness, especially Alion’s. But didn’t that automatically make her weak?
Because strong women – or anyone for that matter – were compelled by their own creativity, their own desire to see a story unfold. And for her, yes, she loved the living moment of creating a life, be it a story, a sketch, a scarf. And yes, sometimes, it was better if her inspiration sprang from those she loved, if it was for them or was something that she knew they would love. But it was never simply for her own inspiration or her own sake that she wanted to create anything. And besides, and probably worse of all, she was more concerned with loving then she was with creating. If she could love them, wasn’t that enough?
But that was weak, wasn’t it?
Written: 20 August 2015
Words: 256 words
Inspired: Azana and my creativity