Dear Journal,

I hadn't planned to go. I had planned to stay at home and figure out what to do with myself now that I knew the truth. Now that knew I was always going to break. But instead I found myself at the Westchester Modeling Fashion Show watching Claire come down the runway.

I was leaning against a planter in front of a vitamin store, at least fifty feet behind the back of the fashion-show crowd but I knew she could see me. I watched as kept her face blank like a good model but her eyes still showed her shock. Our eyes meet and I stepped forward, sliding my hands in my pockets, and for a moment the only thing I could do was fell a tug in my chest, before she had to turn and go back up the runway.

It still hurt to just think about all that I lost when it came to modeling. Watching it happen before me, when I couldn't be a part of it cut me to the core. I no longer got to be the star and have the cameras on me. I no longer got to be center stage. I was in the backgrounds, for real this time. But maybe this is where I belong. Maybe the life I painted for myself was never the right one.

-Olivia