She was a sunflower crown on a wavy brown hair and she was pink rosy cheeks, cheerful eyes and melodic laughs. She was a bubble of awkwardness, tall and perfect. She was an angel, brought down to the soil while the world around us was burning. She was hipster Instagram posts and 10+ faves and retweets on Twitter. She was all I looked up to, and all I could never be. I never dared to dream of embracing her, for I knew she was never mine to be held. She was the beautiful song you’d hear on the radio, the one you’d never buy on iTunes, not because you were broke, but because you know you only deserve to appreciate her on that exact moment when it would play. You know she is not for you to claim and play whenever you wanted. She loved photography and being behind the camera, not knowing that she was the perfect picture I’ve always wanted to take. She was miles and miles beyond my reach, and I was glad she need not have to be dirtied by my mortal hands. She was so lovely in all sense of the word, that even her flaws were like a child’s drawing book – others might see a mess, but only I could see the splash of color and call it art.