I Don’t Want to Be Your Muse

Why Being Idealized Isn’t the Same as Being Loved

It’s flattering to be seen as special. To be remembered, adored, even longed for. But sometimes admiration becomes a mask—one that hides who we really are. When someone loves the idea of you more than your reality, it can feel lonelier than being invisible. This is for anyone who’s ready to stop being a symbol and start being whole.

The Problem With Being Put on a Pedestal

Over the years, I’ve noticed how easily people create stories about me. Some women assumed my successes came without effort—that I didn’t have to try as hard, or that things were simply handed to me. Others dismissed me outright, uncomfortable with how I carried myself or what I had achieved.

In dating, I often saw a different version of the same pattern. Some men looked at me and only saw surface—charm, confidence, appearance. They imagined I was all lightness, no weight. And when they discovered that I had depth, emotions, and expectations, they pulled away, or worse, reacted with resentment.

It took time to understand that their reactions weren’t about me. They were about their projections. Once I stopped personalizing it, I started feeling free.

Being a Muse Isn’t What You Think It Is

There’s a romantic idea around being someone’s muse—that you’re inspiring, unforgettable, larger than life. But in reality, a muse is often someone idealized, not truly seen. You’re a moment, not a person. A story, not a soul.

I’ve had people tell me I stayed in their mind for years. That I changed the way they saw the world. Yet they never really asked who I was, or what I needed. They didn’t want me; they wanted the version of me they had invented.

Being a muse can feel like praise, but it also means being turned into something symbolic. And symbols don’t get to be messy. They don’t get to grow, or break, or say no.

That’s not love. That’s distance wrapped in desire.

I’d Rather Be Whole Than Idealized

Over time, I stopped trying to fit the image. I stopped silencing myself to be more likable. I stopped straightening my hair to feel more polished. I let myself be a little louder, a little messier, a little more human.

And in that space, I became more myself.

I am not a curated version of someone’s dream. I’m a real person, with stories, flaws, wisdom, and softness. Being whole doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being honest. And that, to me, is far more powerful than being adored from afar.

The Peace of Being Seen

There’s a different kind of love I believe in now. One that doesn’t place me on a pedestal or ask me to stay silent. One that holds my brilliance and my bruises with equal care.

I don’t want to be admired in pieces. I want to be met as a whole. I want to give and receive love that honors who we are, not who we pretend to be.

So no, I don’t want to be your muse. I want to be understood. Or left alone with my peace. Because I’m not someone else’s idea of beauty. I’m mine.

“You weren’t born to be someone’s favorite fantasy. You were born to be your own divine reality.”

—Vanessa Liu