Picture Perfect [h.s.]

To Be Picture Perfect...

Prologue

He was all I ever wanted, all I would ever need. He was terrible for me, horribly wrong, he went against everything I was taught to believe in. Our relationship was dangerous and revolved around secrecy, it went against the social norm, but I guess that's why I was so infatuated with it. Him. Everything I did was for him. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, he was made to fit in perfect harmony with me, but somehow everything got screwed up and made the obstacles almost impossible to ignore, but we did it anyway, we decided that this is what we both wanted and nobody was going to end it until we decided it was over.

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I was just the quiet girl. The girl nobody ever paid too much mind to. I wasn't popular nor was I relentlessly bullied. I was just there, stuck in the background, drifting through life, waiting to find something, or rather someone, to make my world stop, to give me a purpose to grab onto that sturdy rock in the water and stop flowing with the continuous river. For me to climb on top of that rock and take a moment, or two, to actually observe my surroundings and enjoy what I had in life, to recognize what I wanted and needed in life. I wanted that bone crushing love, the type of love that envelopes your entire life, when he is all you can think about, all that you care about, when he is the only thing that makes your world...well...makes your world picture perfect. That's what I wanted, a picture perfect love.

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But our picture wasn't perfect...no it was blurry. So blurry that the lines were indistinguishable, the faces were mushed, the colors were smeared, happiness mixed with sorrow as the pixels swirled together to create this disgraceful and ugly masterpiece. A masterpiece we should have been ashamed of, a masterpiece that should have been stopped as the artist swiped his brush across the canvas. The artist knew it was horrible, the colors were wrong, his technique was sloppy, his vision was distorted. He knew this painting wouldn't be something to be proud of, so he struggled to sign his name on the bottom. He should have stopped in the process of it all but he was so caught up and so attached to this painting that he forgot about the critics and forgot about his limits. He continued to paint, and the painting herself welcomed him with open arms, in hopes that she could become as beautiful as he had envisioned her. To be hung up in that gallery, for her artist to be proud. But she knew that the inspiration behind her just wasn't enough to turn her into a masterpiece. She knew the critics would disagree with her artist's techniques and shame the disgraceful painting. Both her and her artist knew this, but he was determined to finish what he started and she was determined to be what he wanted. To be what he pictured. To be picture perfect.