“You taught me that I’m not the kind of woman that men feel passionate about. Not passionate enough for grand gestures, like boomboxes outside my bedroom window, gifts of bottles of rain, ear-severing self-harm, or any of the rom-com cliches and tortured artist tropes that I was sold in the 1980s and 90s. No one will ever lose their minds or never be able to fully love again because of me. No great art will be made in my honour. I thought that doing that thing you like would get me most of the way there, but that wasn’t the case. Life isn’t fair. But I knew that going in.
If I have a regret in my life, it’s that I wasn’t that muse to anyone. I regret never figuring out how to be a Zelda or a Marianne.”