The truth in our songs

Chapter 1

"The truth in our songs"

-by Femalewriterdarcy

For my grandmum. I love you more than I love anyone and I always will. You are my favorite person. This is for you.

Also, English isn't my first language so I apologize for any mistakes or writing faults.

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Maia-Jane Miller

A quick flashlight.

And then it was gone but I felt the bright burning beam like a stab in my eyes and squeezed them shut to make the pain stop. Words could never describe how much I hated this. Here I was again, without purpose and utterly lost. But what else could this place give me?

,, So, what's your name then? ,, the woman asked me and I looked at her unfathomably for a second before I answered.

She gave me the typical image of a female school photographer. She tried to pretend to love her job and in truth she couldn't wait to pack her tripod and the rest of her crap and drive back to the studio. Her glasses were crooked on the bridge of her sharp nose and there was more red lipstick on the plastic coffee mug beside her laptop than on her thin lips.

The shiny black leather pants on her skinny legs and the white blouse with the three buttoned open buttons were just as horrible as the hideous black (also shiny) high-heels. While she was taking photos, the tightness on her legs got stretched uncomfortably and I always wondered, why these pants had become her choice today. Her blonde hair was tied up to a tight bun and it just looked like the headache was already on his way. How was this legal? She looked more like a cheap mannequin than a professional photographer.

,, Your name? ,, she said more firmly this time after my eyes had watched her longer than planned. Her piercing green gaped at me as she realized that I was scanning her with a glimpse of negativistical facial expression.

,, Maia-Jane Miller ,, I answered and my eyes let go of her, to wander through the studio and inspect her equipment.

She could be lucky that I was even talking to her, I could just not say anything at all and walk away like some creep but no- I was sitting here like a sculpture, smiling unwillingly for her stupid picture before she got the chance to point out to me that we weren't on a funeral. I just needed the day to end and accept that exams, studying and stress would be my life for this school year beside the ugly photos in the yearbook.

,, My name is Maia-Jane Miller ,, I said more confident this time and she nodded quickly, her lips formed into a fake smile before turning back to her laptop and typing it in, for whatever she needed it.

This meant that it was my sign to get myself out of here. I stood up from the chair, I was currently sitting on and took a quick look at her screen before I opened the door to go. I mean- I still had to see how the picture came out which hadn't been necessary since it was a true disappointment. Great! I couldn't understand why selfies, I took myself would come out as vividal and every picture that was taken by others turned out being another awesome insecurity.

My outfit was just not it today, the big blue baggy pants on my short legs made me look like I was in fifth grade and with my black sweatshirt I felt like I had just woken up. Not to forget my worn out black converse that had more cracks in the fabric than visible color. To put it all in one, I looked boring, basic and invisible and was half-buried under my yellow vans school bag which also got my hair trapped, amazing.

Cursing, I walked down the school corridors, past strange faces of the high school students who were waiting in line for their call number and away from room 222 where the pictures got taken. They were mumbling, laughing and chattering, I guessed that their summer had been memorable or they were just excited to graduate this time. But honestly- who likes growing up?