Picture Perfect-

(Camera is set up, the photographer is focusing, image in view.)

“Everyone, get into place, hold still now.”

I wish it were all a dream. A recollection, I could wake up and forget about you, forget about hurting you, forget about speaking those acid words. I’d wake up and it would be back to sunshine and rainbows. Children singing, laughing, playing with fate. When I first encountered you, I was your dream girl and you were my opportunity to leave singleness behind, a companion to spend some cheery days with. I started this drama out of liquid stupor and like every drama with it‘s irony and tragedy I ended it too. I tried, maybe not hard enough, but I tried to try and make things work. I lied to myself and I lied to you; I know I can forgive myself but I’m not sure you can, and truthfully I really don’t care if you do or not. You warrant so much more than I could ever award. I’m just like a subtle advance, giving hints of false feelings, but never allowing anyone to go down deep to see with eyes of crystal. The fidelity of it all I know you can submit but my road doesn’t include pit stops of romantic antics or pity. The anguish of speaking these words, the pain of hearing them bounce back with the look in your eyes. I’ve heeded them all before and now it is my numb lips that mutter them truthfully, knowing the agony of receiving. Feeling instead like I have committed the greatest sin and the haze in your eyes, so naïve, so caring, pierces deep. But my defences flare up and all emotions are fought off with iron swords. I’m passionless, you can’t hurt me more than I can hurt myself. I’m bought off by riches my lips speak no complaint. I’m hushed by the dollar sign though my heart still tells me what I already know.

(“You move in closer, show a little love”)

The concept of sentimental, stereotypical love haunts me every step down the road, searching for that love that I will not find without allowing myself to be found. That picture perfect couple, isn’t so perfect when the camera’s not rolling and the photographer isn’t forcing you to say cheese or some other obtuse phrase. Appearances may be deceiving. Yet, unready and unsteady I am, like a toddler on his brand new feet. Suddenly I am grown, my body has grown into my mind, and I feel I cannot hide behind innocence. I am revealed, the naked truth, for all to see and all to judge. One could like or dislike and my own insecure self, shown off as blatant courage, is know longer an excuse. Love will find me, in mysterious ways, but for now I will fight and repel all signs of tenderness. I will cast a spell upon all those who dare to care.

The sun shines, so predictable like some mystery where after the first scene the entire film revealed too fast, too soon. The perfect setting. I wish it were grey, but stop myself. I wish for relief, not some clichéd love song about feeling blue. I actually feel like crying, honest tears, tears of forgiveness that I know I will not be granted. Idle hopes, turn to idle dreams. We can’t be what we want to be, those are lines fed to us by the people who’s own aspirations were diminished long ago. The future generation, your going to be the next Britney Spears, the next Prime Minister, the next . . . . Bullshit. The outside is warm and looks wonderful to the spectators but the inside is human; gutless, shameless, vindictive . . Real people.

(The camera zooms in, “Looking good.”)

It’s in all of us whether we admit it or not. Feelings change and reasons too. It’s true, I don’t love you! A sappy love song, rhyming without meaning. So boring, dull, and yet I can speak these words and be genuine. With all the hatred and cynical thinking, we can still believe in romantic love, what’s worse is that we can still want it. It’s a dream, you can have anything you want to have, and dreams don’t come true.

There are many words for dreams. Fantasize, visualize, fancy, hallucinate. Like a drug, dreams make you think you’re on top of the game, but once the high is gone you fall. Everything falls, because what comes up must come down. Feelings go up and feelings go down. Like you. People love loving, love giving, love sharing. Real people love money, love sex, love receiving, love ulterior motives. And yet I still miserable from hurting you, I still wish I could have loved you, I still wish things could have been different, but it’s just a wish. Reality is just around the corner and I’m not sure I’m prepared for it. Just like preparing to hear your parents tell you cartoon’s aren’t real, Santa’s a made up character, and that dreams are there to chase, but sometimes, most times, . . . .(Image in view, ready, ready, say “Cheese”) . . . . dreams aren’t caught

(The photographer smiles, “What a perfect picture!” )