Chapter 4 / Day 2

Good evening,

Here’s something I have been thinking about. I remember like 3 years ago- when myspace was still acceptable and iPhones were an anticipated product– there was this person.

You see- I hate to think of myself as some sort of internet stalker- but what else could I call it?

It started with this friend of my brothers. She apparently knew someone who knew someone- who could sing really good. She told my brother who told me- to check out this guys myspace. He could indeed sing good… lovely even.

So while listening to him- I notice a grand majority of his songs being devoted to ‘the girl’ — the girl was in his top friends- so I proceeded to look at her myspace. Not a crime right? I just wanted to see this girl who could inspire such beautiful songs. After all, what girl doesn’t want a guy to write songs about her? I thought I could pick up some tips.

After seeing her myspace and realising that there was nothing in-your-face special about her (that sounds harsher than I mean it to sound) … I noticed a comment on her page that included a little poem. It was such a sweet little poem- that I couldn’t help clicking on this new girls myspace.

And there it was. I stumbled upon gold. This girl… this friend of the girlfriend of the singer of the friend of the friend of my brother. She was this awesome poet-storyteller. I became obsessed with checking her page and reading her wonderful stories. They were so odd and wonderful and intelligently/magically written.

Time went on and I didn’t check her page as much. Her stories were becoming less joyful and more bitter… upsetting. I watched as her status changed from married to single. I watched as friends didn’t comment as much… besides the few who asked how she was doing- or the ones inviting her to support groups of some kind.

More time went on and I basically forgot about her. After all- no more stories were being written and I didn’t actually know her. So I just stopped.

Well today I was thinking about her poems. Her stories. Her poemeries as I like to call them. I decided to start searching for her… I had to retrace my steps and go through each myspace (yes ancient myspace!) persons page to try and find her. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

I’ve no idea where she is or how she is- and I really shouldn’t care. But I do.

I wish I had told her how much I loved her writing. How talented she seemed.

I’m making this out as though it’s some tragedy. For all I know she’s happy as daisies and never really was married anyway. Perhaps she’s a famous blogger now or story book writer.

I guess I’ll never know. But at least I feel inspired to write poemeries again.

Thank you phantom story girl. I never even knew your name.

-charlie