Okay, this is a very... different story. So, it's told from the view of Miley in a photograph. yeah, i know. So, tell me what you think.
I looked over the boy standing next to me in his pose, his arms wrapped around my waist on the rainy day. A smile was plastered on for the camera, not a real one, he was too shy in front of camera's, but a smile. He was still purely happy and in love. With me. My body was pressed against his with my hood put up over my curls. Where we were was hard to make out since the ink was so smeared all around me, but I remember that we were standing in the rain outside. It was over a year ago, the summer before last. When everything was perfect for us – for them.
He stood, staring back at me and smiling. We still don't know what happened after our picture was shot, but we're guessing something tragic. Each night, the live Miley pulls out this very picture, looking at the two of us. Sometimes, there's hate in her eyes, sometimes despair, sometimes there's only love in her blue orbs, but whenever she sees us there are tears forming in her eyes. She talked to us – or herself I'm not quite sure which – one day a long time ago, and said that she really missed how things used to be, but she couldn't cry anymore. She had to try to move on, because quite frankly, the moment that me and Nick were stuck in wasn't coming back. I don't know why she's so sad, or what caused all of the misery we have both seen, but... I don't think I'm supposed to love Nick anymore. I think we broke up, that our love faded in reality. I know that I can never stop loving him, then again, I'm stuck in the past, in the summer of 2007.
He gives me a kiss on the cheek while I smile stupidly next to him before going to my original pose in case the door opens. It usually does this time of day, then she'll take a shower and dig the piece of paper we're stuck on out of the box, torturing herself. If she has a sleepover to attend, we go with. Most times at award shows, we're both slipped into a space in her purse, carefully.
The edges of the photo is wearing thin after being fumbled, moved, and wet with tears so many times. One harsh movement and we'll be ripped, not just bent and loosely held together. We're becoming so fragile and worn out.
I hear the stereo go on above us, meaning Miley's in her room again. Only a matter of minutes until she digs out the shoebox that we're both stuffed in along with the billion of other pictures. We're always delicately placed on top, however, easy to grab in the pile of papers, printouts, quotes – reminders.
Light came casting into the small box, burning my eyes at first. She picked us up, simply holding the picture to her heart at first, body shaking. Once she pulled us away I observed the girl. She was crying again, in pain. Her mascara was running away from the tears, something that I found all makeup is quite good at. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, no sign of the sobbing stopping anytime soon. Instantly there was the pity I always found at this sight. Here I am, stuck in a picture of the past, but maybe the past is what everyone looks back on, wishing they could relive. Maybe the past is what makes the future so absolutely terrifying, because you wonder if it can really get any better.
She softly touched the picture with her finger, rubbing it against Nick's face, not making any marks on the crystal clear part of us.
"I miss you so much, Nicky," she whispered, her face flushing a pink quicker than ever. "I would give anything to go back."
She took out a few more pictures, a few more memories. She placed each one in the bed before putting them back in the small box, one by one. Then, she took of the dog tag that had always been around both of our neck's ever since I started dating Nick. She ran over the engraving on the back before letting that fold in the box as well. I was beyond confused. Never had either of us taken it off. It symboled that there was always something huge in the world, something to hope for.
She closed the box, going outside to bury it under the tree, under our tree. We were held in her other hand, being rested on the ground when she placed the rest of the items in a neatly dug hole. She ran her hand over the smooth cardboard before sniffing.
"I can't do this to myself anymore."
Only she didn't place us back in the box before we started back inside. She covered it with dirt without my picture in it. Once back in her room she sat crossed legged on her bed, staring at the two of us together, at how happy we were. She silently shook her head, wiping her tears with her thumbs. Finally, she grabbed the scissors.
"I can't do this to myself anymore!" she yelled. Honestly, I was scared. I had never seen her like this before. "I can't keep putting myself through pain. I have to move on." she tried to convince herself. "I can't do this to myself anymore." she whispered for a third time before making a perfect cut in between me and Nick, tearing us apart. I held him for life, but still we were separated. Good things end.
I felt each and every piece of my heart shatter. I knew what she was going through now. I knew what heartbreak felt like now. "Nick." I whispered, feeling a single tear roll down my cheek. It didn't show though, a photo never shows the bad moments. Even if the bad moments hold the pain that we went through to make us who we were today. Even if pain, is what creates the feeling of the glee we feel.
For the first time in my life I felt something other than the happiness I had when I was with him. I felt emotion. I felt dead without him, not numb, but dead. A feeling of dreariness rushed through my veins. Every emotion that I had seen in the past year I now understood. Miley was heartbroken. She was depressed, she felt hopeless. Her dreams were washed away, replaced with the simple feeling of emptiness.
Because love is what I was looking for. Now, I was separated from it, separated from him. We were torn apart in the matter of seconds, quicker than smoke from a chimney fading on a cold winter day. And we weren't going to be placed back together anytime soon.
I was strong, I knew that as much as the next person did, but this Miley that I had once known so great was strong too. She was this cheerful girl with a spark in her eye, not introduced to evil. She was always laughing, or smiling even if she wasn't the least bit happy. Everything had a value in some way, and she didn't believe in hate, she hated people who sad or brought down. I miss that girl, she was a good kid.
I guess we both weren't strong enough, we weren't able to live with that feeling of something missing in our heart. We both believed that we weren't strong enough to cope, we were too young, too depressed, too stuck in the past. We both changed, not for the better. We became two different, unhappy, incomplete people. In fact, I would hardly recognise that girl I used to be in the whole photograph. There's a word to describe it. Pain. Numb. Depressed.
broken; adjective; destroyed, made into pieces from a whole
Broken was the perfect word, the perfect definition of how I now lived. I was destroyed. And the only person who could pick up my pieces and place them back together flawlessly, was the one who completely disappeared – abandoned me forever, the reason I was like this. Nick.
Broken, with no hope of getting fixed.
ta-dum [; comments on it? let me know what you thought ;D review please.