Chapter Three


I look in the mirror, and comb my hair. Some say that I'm emo or gothic, due to my hair. Its long enough. That, mixed with my black converse sneakers, and guitar, I am basically catergorized as an emo person. Personally, I'm not either. I don't like to catergorize myself. I'm just me. I don't need a label or anything to prove it. Labels are for squares.

I throw the comb in the sink, and look out the window. I see the paralyzing sun of Miami, and in the distance, I see the clear blue waters of the beach down the stairs. I think I'll write a song for Melanie today. Even though I never met her, I know shes gorgeous, and I know when I met her, she'll take my breathe away, and I will be hooked like her, like shes a drug. I know that when I met her, I'll kiss her on the lips. I'll bring her a rose, and then, get down on one knee, and ask her to be mine. And then, we'll kiss once more, and we'll never have to worry about losing each other.

I sighed. I was in love with her. And I never even met her. Man, what was wrong with me?

I grabbed my guitar, and sat on the bed. I strummed a couple of harmonies together, and added lyrics. Before I knew it, it turned into a song. Her song.

I logged onto Musicspace. She wasn't on. Damn. I published the lyrics, and messaged them to Melanie, because her opinion mattered the most. After all, the song was about her. It wouldn't matter if the biggest person in music hated it. If she liked it, then I wouldn't care. If she hated it, then I'd do anything to make it better, to make her like it. I know I'm in love with her. I just have to meet her now.

I logged off and sighed. I wonder what she was doing at this exact moment. Was she thinking of me? Was she writing music? Was she writing a song about me perhaps? Did I even mean anything to her, or was I just something to entertain her? I sighed. I probably meant nothing to her. Love is such a confusing emotion.


Another sold-out concert. Another couple of thousands of fans that screaming my name, and that they love me. They don't love me. They just love me, and the music I sing. That fake music that was me. I wish I was with Austin. Then, I would feel complete and happy. I want him to hold me, and to never let me go.

Going offstage, I sighed. I probably meant nothing to him. He probably had a girlfriend, who was probably amazing. She probably was a musican. She was probably beautiful. She probably deserved him way more than I did.

I got my notebook out. I want to write him a song. Its not for the superifical me. The record company would butcher it into some crappy pop ballad, and ruin all the emotion that is behind it. Screw it. I'd record it for him, and leave it on Musicspace. I hoped he'd like it. I never recorded music on there, and hes the one that inspired me to write it.

Minutes later, a song was formed. It wasn't like anything like I have written before. It was emotional, and I never really showed much emotion in my music. My record company hated it. Damn fools, they wouldn't know a good thing if it hit them hard in the head. Sometimes fame is the worst thing to ever happen to a person, because they lose their own touch to their own music. And then we all turn into robots.

I turned on the computer, hoping that he was on. He wasn't. I hit the record button, and sang my heart out. Then, I sent to him, and prayed he would like it. I then realized that he sent me a message as well. My heart raced as I opened it. He sent me a song. I plugged my headphones in. It was a love song. A cute love song.

This song wasn't like anything I ever heard of before. The emotion behind it was strong, and powerful. He was an amazing musician. It made my song look so horrible, so dry, so emotionless. And this song was for me, a girl that he had never met before a day in his life. I couldn't find the words to say what I was feeling. He had taken my breathe away, and I never even met him before.

I pressed reply and wrote:

Dear Austin,

I just heard your song, and its beautiful. I never heard anything so beautiful. You said I inspired this song? Thank you for writing this for me. I love it, and I love you. I can't wait to meet you, can it happen soon? I really want to see you, and tell you how I feel about you in person. I hope you like my song, and don't judge it if its not as amazing as yours was.

I love you,



I pressed send, and sighed. I needed to meet him. I was in love with him.


My computer dinged, indicating that I had an email. It was from musicspace. Suddenly, my heart raced. Melanie read my song lyrics. I quickly logged on.

I read her email. She wrote me one back. I listened to her sing it. Her voice was so amazing. She was truly talented. Her voice made the simple song sound so emotional. Her words, made it sound like she meant every word she sang. She was simply amazing. I just had to meet her. She was simply too good to be true. I had to meet her now. I just had to.

I hit reply.

Dear Melanie,

Yes the song was inspired by you. That's what makes it so beautiful. And I just heard your song. You're a very talented girl. Are you sure I inspired that? And I want to meet you. Any chance of you coming to Florida soon? I need to see you. I need to know if you are an actual person, and not just a dream. You are real, aren't you? Don't laugh. Or answer that. Well, anyways, think about meeting me.



I hit send. I hoped I wasn't too blunt with her, and scared her off. I just wanted her to be real, not just some dream that is going to end. I want her. No, I need her.