Prompt: Put your music library on shuffle. Write a scene inspired by the first song that comes on.
Song: House of Memories – Panic! at the Disco
I miss her so much.
I could say that she was my first crush, my first kiss, my first love, but none of that would justice to exactly how perfect she was.
I remember what she was like before she was famous.
God, it sounds so cliche. Like words that don’t belong to me, but they’re true. She was so beautiful. Back in high school, when we were made of ambitions and dreams. She was the type of girl who didn’t care what people think. She had an old camera that took terrible photos but she loved every single one. She said she only took pictures of things she truly loved. She took pictures of the sky, of the forest behind her house, her dog. She took pictures of me, but more importantly, she took pictures of us together. It was comforting to know that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her.
She told me she would take the world by storm. She would become a world famous photographer. She would change everything, she said.
I loved the way she talked about things she loved. About her photos, about her life. About me. About us. She seemed so happy. She always seemed so happy.
In college, we stayed together, but it didn’t last long. It came out of nowhere, like a blow to the back of my head. She broke my heart, and I forgave her for it. But I didn’t move on. I know I should have. And I really didn’t want to be ‘that guy’, the stalker on social media who wouldn’t leave his exes alone.
She stopped talking to me. And I was so worried about her.
Her Instagram was flooded with photos every day. And she looked perfect in all of them, but she wasn’t the beautiful girl I had fallen in love with. She wore sunglasses in every picture, and she took photos of things like food and people I had never seen before. She moved to New York. She dated models and drummers. And people seemed to love it. She had thousands and thousands of followers and I just couldn’t understand it. They adored her, but they didn’t know who she was. Not really. And honestly, I don’t think she did either.
Because one day the pictures stopped.
And I don’t know what happened to her.
I miss the girl I fell in love with, who broke my heart for reasons I don’t know. I miss the girl who lost herself in what she thought were her dreams, or in other people’s promises, I’m not sure.
Her Instagram was full of perfect pictures, perfect people, perfect moments.
But I miss the days when our pictures were terrible. At least she looked happy in them.