The sound of her voice was something no one has ever heard before, it was as if the heavens above had created a melody that would instantly cause peace and security in every soul that spoke to this wonderful presence.
The way she smiled at everyone and never seemed to frown was something I never imagined to witness in this world of greed and anger.
It was as if she was perfectly crafted at the hands of Mother Nature herself, for she had no flaws in either her physical form or in her angelic personality.
I had began to wonder how this girl was even real...
For in my head, perfection isn't a possibility and it couldn't be dreamed for someone so irreplaceable to ever acknowledge a lonesome, drone like me..
I close the worn pages of my composition and lay my head on the soft feathers of my pillow..
I've done this before, you see, created the perfect woman out of pure imagination.
As crazy as it seems, being alone isn't something I chose for myself, but in the life of someone who prefers thunderstorms and blizzards over sunshine and beach days, it's hard to fit in to the crowd of fashionistas and male models.
Those pages and sheets of paper are all I've ever known, they are the only things I ever thought of as a home...
The way she was when I wrote her was the person I imagined myself to be, but frankly, the girl on that paper could never in thousand years be me.
I am not perfect nor am I adored by everyone.
My voice is sometimes hoarse and I could never cause security in this world of fiscal responsiblities, but on paper..
On paper I could be the ideal vision of perfection.
I could be molded into the infinite ideas of attractive and no longer be saddened by what I see in the mirror.
Human Nature is funny like that, you know.
We crave to be everything but what we are.
We see the beauty in everything, but ourselves..
And if we really take the moments to think about it..
writing is funny like that, too.
we can write pages upon stories upon haikus about all the ways we were, but when night approaches and the stars come out,
and those thoughts start to set in..
I am not the girl I created nor are we the characters of our books..
No, those people are simply words put together on paper.
We are something better than that..
We are someone else's beautiful creation brought to life..