In her mind, I never existed. She doesnât just refuse to see me, I am not real to her, and nothing ever happened. The only thing I have to prove to her what we were is a photograph. This photo Iâm holding is a picture of her and me sitting on the bench, we are slightly apart, but we both knew we were together. She is on her phone talking to someone, I was in my mind, really in my journal. I have this picture because a man shopping at the gift shop across the street snapped a polaroid just before she left. When she left, I walked over to him and asked him if I could have the picture he took, I had to pay $20 for it. Since that day, that beautiful day sitting next to her, I go back to that bench hoping she will return so I can show her that I am real, that I exist. As soon as the man took the picture she stood up and walked away, not even noticing me or the picture that was taken. We sat there for some time, almost alone, but there were other people in the park, not many though. I grabbed the photo out of my pocket and asked if anyone had seen her. I never even got her name, and that is what upsets me the most. Itâs as if we were strangers connected by this specific moment in time, caught by a single photo. The man who took the polaroid said it was almost a mistake that he took that photo. He was looking at the children playing behind us, but instead captured me and the mystery girl. I told him that thereâs no such thing as mistakes or accidents because everything happens for a reason.