I could see the freedom in her eyes with every selfie posted on Facebook. The blue settled like a calm ocean being kissed by her eyelids with every happy stare into the lens. She seemed to always be where she wanted to be and always surrounded by exactly who could benefit her and vice versa.
Her photos give me anxiety. They make me want what I know I cannot have. Some times it’s the background that makes me jealous, places I may one day visit but places I am not right now. Other times it’s her hair, her eyes, her frame, all exactly how they always were, nothing changed. In other photos it’s her scarf or ridiculous tights because when she put them on she was only thinking of herself. But mostly it’s the air that glows around her, so happy to be in her presence.
Her pictures paint a thousand words all with the same meaning, happy. It’s possible I’m seeing the best parts of what could be an ordinary life. My jealousy, while riddled more with guilt than motivation, sits quietly inside my chest because I know that girl and I know that she has a secret chest of wants and desires, angst and anxieties herself.
But one thing is for sure, she lives and loves like no other. I live through her photos until I can make my own.