A Melody from the Heart

I knew a girl once. She was the poster child for perfect. She had the perfect looks, the perfect profession, the perfect image and standing in society. To the outside world, she looked like she had the perfect life and anyone would have given anything to be in her place.

She was wealthy because her family came from old money. She could have been rich all on her own, though. People had to give her credit because she worked hard in spite of having a life of luxury. So, on top of having the perfect life, she had everything she could have wished for.

She was a musical prodigy, and everyone knew it from the moment she picked up the violin when she was four. She was sought out by Julliard and attended all of her school years there. She never knew any other school.

Some may have thought all of this was luck. A lot of people analyzed why this girl was so blessed in every aspect of life, and the only logical reason they could come up with was that everything just turned out the right way for her.

As she was growing up, her parents taught her that presentation was everything. If people saw that you looked perfect, they assumed that you were perfect. In other words, putting on a flawless appearance was taught to her from such a young age that after awhile, she no longer knew where the appearance ended and the real girl began.

She had pretended for so long that by the time I met her, she didn’t know how to be herself any longer.

You see, what people fail to realize most of the time is even though everything may look perfect on the outside, it is most likely anything but on the inside. Everyone knows that their own life is always far from the way they want it to be, so why would they assume that hers would be any different? They always want what others have, and they are too busy trying to change themselves that don’t realize just how many flaws are beneath that cracked visage of perfection.

Yes, everything was far from perfect on the inside. So far, in fact, that she often wondered why she was always so unlucky in life. It was so ironic that this girl everyone wished to be wanted to be anyone but herself. But, if they knew the things that I eventually found out, I am betting they would have changed their minds.

She was screaming out for change and to be let free of the restraints that were put on her all of her life. No one heard the screaming, but I did. I heard it the moment I laid eyes on her.

She was so lonely, and she felt as if she was never going to find herself or anyone else. She had spent all of her life trying to keep up appearances, trying to do all her parents asked of her, that she no longer knew what it was like to be herself. And, she always thought if even she didn’t know who she was anymore, how could she ever let anyone else know who the real her was.

So many people wanted so much out of her that she was no longer her own to give out. Everyone else managed who she was supposed to talk to, who she was supposed to meet.

She told me that this worked for her at first, though. For other reasons, she never wanted to let anyone in. To protect everyone else, she never let anyone get too close. And, in turn, she forgot what it was to feel.

When I first saw her, my world froze. I cannot say the same thing once I actually met her, though. It was not love at first sight, and, being truthful, we did not even like each other when we first met.

She was everything I was not, and I was everything she was missing. We were total, complete opposites, but in time we found we were the parts missing from each other. We didn’t look like we should be a match, but for some reason we were more perfect for each other than anyone ever could have imagined.

Some wondered how we even stayed around each other long enough to discover this hidden match, but the answer was simple.

She used proper language and a somewhat polite yet cold personality while I used profanity and a rock star’s attitude. She wore gowns and designer clothing while I wore jeans and a t-shirt. She was headstrong and distant while I was laid back and accepting. She was adorned with jewelry while I was adorned with tattoos and piercings.

The list could go on and on, but we did have one thing in common.

Music.

She had devoted her life to the art, as I had. We shared the same passion and love for it. Music was the most important thing in our lives, and it had led us to each other.

Our involvement in music couldn’t have been more different, but it no longer mattered once she saw how much I loved it. She understood because she had the same exact love, and it was at that moment that she finally viewed me as her equal.

She had put up a good front at first, just like she did with everyone. I was eventually able to break it down and finally see the shattered girl that was left underneath the fake shell she always had on display.

After that, my passion was no longer just music. It was split between that and finding away to help her fix herself.

Slowly, I taught her how to feel again.

As I was trying to discover the real her, though, I never realized that she was teaching me a lesson of my own. She taught me that there was such a thing as love. She taught me that everyone was capable of it, no matter how much I had thought otherwise before meeting her.

I had developed such a cynical outlook on life and I thought nothing could ever turn out right. She taught me I was wrong though, and she taught me to have faith in people. She told me no one ever had faith in who she really was, and she always wished they had because she believed whoever the real her was would be so much better than the fake one.

She told me that, and it’s something I never forget, no matter how much time has passed by since I last saw her. Now, I always give people a chance before brushing them off, and I know she is proud of that.

As the days go by, I never forget the smile she had when she was truly happy, or the softness of her touch.

I never forgot the sound of her violin the last time I heard her play. It was a sound that was the sweetest yet saddest thing I had ever heard. It was a sound where she was able to tell you everything she was feeling, and I keep that feeling in my heart with me, right next to where she will always belong. Music was what made up the most of her being, and it is the piece of her that allows me to feel like she is still right beside me. When I close my eyes, it is her music that still allows me to hear her laughing and to feel her hand brushing against mine.

I knew a girl named Audrey once, and she was the love of my life.