polaroid angel - dreamnotfound

˖⋆࿐໋₊ 𝘵𝘸𝘰

the skyscrapers of the city are slowly being replaced by ordinary apartment buildings the further i walk. normally i would hop on the metro to get home from work, but today i really needed some fresh air. the new york metro is always so crowded, too crowded. especially during rush hour. i couldn't handle that today. not after what went down earlier. and besides, it only takes around half an hour to walk home.

i take this extra time to reflect on today's events. it all started off according to plan. wake up, shower, go to work. but it ended in a way i could've never foreseen. all because of that man behind the camera. the man with the golden blond locks, and the deeply green eyes that could captivate anyone. why can't i get him out of my mind? maybe the mystery surrounding him is what keeps me hooked. i know virtually nothing about the guy, but i'm definitely eager to learn more.

if we ever see each other in the future, that is. he did say he wanted to work with me again, whatever that's supposed to mean. i'm totally up for it. he intrigues me, in a strange kind of way.

and he called me beautiful. a word so well-known to me, yet this time it wasn't the same. you get to hear it every single day as a model; people who buy the magazines marvel over your marketed beauty, your coworkers reviewing your photos drop it all the time during conversations, and of course there's the occasional remark from the photographers. but their compliments usually lack meaning and traction. they're straight-faced and stone cold as they say it.

not that dream wasn't straight-faced when he uttered it too. but he was.. i could swear his breathing was shaky, just like mine in that moment. the word suddenly held a different meaning. it hit different. he's a young man, about my age, not some old creep. and he's attractive. like, really attractive. i have to admit it. i want to believe that it came from his heart, but i can never be sure.

i sigh, the urge to punch myself growing stronger. sort yourself out, george. why are you obsessing over a stranger? enough.

one last crosswalk, and i've arrived at my apartment complex. the little hideout i call home. i walk into the quiet stairwell, not expecting to meet anyone on the way up. this place always smells of something funky, whether it's the neighbor's freshly made curry or oily cooking fumes in general. they really should get around to installing some better ventilation. i don't doubt that the other buildings around this area have similar issues. they're all the same; slightly run down, but functioning and clutching onto that old school charm for dear life.

i wish i could live in a fancy apartment closer to the center of the city, where everything happens, but my bank account won't allow it. despite being a fairly talked about model in the underground art scene, i'm not exactly rich. i stay down with the freelancers on the scale, and i have yet to break out into the mainstream. my company does help out in pushing my photos out there, but they can only do so much. a larger corporation has to open their eyes to me for any major changes to occur.

i've got a decent income, though. but 'decent' doesn't get you far in new york city. this lame apartment was really all i could afford if i wanted to have extra money to spend every month. my home city, london, is nowhere near cheap either, but it's not as extreme as this.

to an extent, i do miss london. the pissy, unpredictable weather, the loud pubs, the annunciator on the tube lines. it's where i grew up, and where i started my career, after all. how could i not miss it?

when i had gained some traction as a model, i was urged to move overseas almost immediately. london isn't exactly the epicenter for art and pop culture, and i was told i'd get way more opportunities over here. of course i picked up on the offer straight away, excited to really make something out of this. as a bonus, i got signed by my current company before i had even stepped on the flight. everything seemed perfect.

and i still can't complain. i've got a decent life. nothing's bothering me too much. i've got food, clothes, a roof over my head, and a nice job. but the feeling that something's missing is still lingering.

to be truthful, i haven't made many friends since i moved here. i spend time with my coworkers during the days, and occasionally they'll invite me to hang out outside of work too. clubbing is also something i do for fun and social interaction, but it doesn't quite satisfy my need for human contact.

i need someone who cares about me, who loves me, whether it's a best friend or a partner. it's hard to connect with people though, especially when you walk around wearing skirts and knee socks like me. i get many judgemental stares, but those will never stop me from expressing myself. i live and breathe bows, fluffy things, baby blue and pastel pink. no one can snatch it away from me.

i flip the light switch in the hallway as i get inside. welcome home george. just another evening to waste. and tomorrow awaits another day of work. and the day after that too.

i sigh again. my life needs spontaneity. something colorful, something that i can look forward to every morning when i wake up. something dreamy.