F I N E
a caitlyn story.
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I'm sitting at a press conference for Mitchie Torres' new album, and I want to puke.
She looks impeccable, of course. Her bangs fall into her eyes and she flashes us all that perfect, Disney Channel smile of hers, and everyone is buying every second of her bullshit. She looks smug and cocky, though no one else can tell. It's the way her smile is curving – not in an easy, effortless way. She's trying so pathetically hard NOT to be a cliché, that she is one. The ordinary girl turned celebutante, out to take on the world, one easily convinced 13 year old at a time.
"Oh, no. I'm not that good. I just wrote some songs that were accepted by the public well. There are people like, WAY better than me."
The way she says those words makes me cringe. There are people like, WAY better than me. Because she knows her voice is amazing. She knows her singing gives people chills. Those cliché little chills, caused by a powerhouse vocal and another love song that makes the cold nights a little warmer.
"Mitchie, what inspires you to write?"
"I just get ideas and write them down," she bubbles, a tinkling little laugh leaving her lips. You can see the little gap between her teeth, that everyone says is – what's the term? Simply adorable?
I want to hit her.
Because when I was on top, the record company made me get my gap fixed. They said it was distracting. They said no one would like it.
No one would like me if I had my gap. But Mitchie gets to keep hers. Because Mitchie has no flaws. Mitchie is perfect. Mitchie is the all-American girl. Everyone loves Mitchie.
I wonder why everyone buzzes about Mitchie's originality around me. Because she's not original. She can write a damn good love song, and a damn good break-up song, and she can pretend to have self-esteem issues. Because that takes so much effort.
So why is it when I did that, everyone turned the other cheek? Why is it that she is praised for originality, creativity, when I was criticized for – let me think, teenage naivete and a typical, uninspired attitude on love?
Mitchie looks around at reporters for more questions, and when she speaks, I don't feel the passion in her words she says she has. I don't see the intense sparkle in her eye. I see a girl turning out records with sugar pop/rock on them she knows the public will eat up like hotcakes, just so she can get the credit and the glory that other people have worked their asses off for years to deserve.
Like me.
Because Mitchie got one hit that sent her straight to the top.
And me?
Single. After single. After single. Nothing.
And perhaps it was fun for a while. Being the underdog. Being the person everyone knew about, but no one really loved. Because they were too busy with Mitchie.
The press conference ends, and people swarm Mitchie. Fans are waiting for her, surrounding her car and screaming for autographs and their praises. It makes me sick.
"CAITY!" Mitchie screams at me, flashing me of her patented smiles. "Caity, call me later! We'll get dinner! Love you!"
I nod and smile at her weakly. I'm supposed to be her friend.
I've always been good at pretending to be fine.
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basically, i was just feeling jealous and angry and…this came along. haha.
please review with more than "so weird (lol)" or "i loved it," thanks. :)