Recovery

The best thing about Milan Fashion Week is the fact that you barely have time to think. There are models to deal with, clothing flying from here to there, stress, photographs, press etc. It seems to be endless, the huge amount of things I must do. Though I model, I also design and my designs are highly acclaimed. I'm glad about that. People like my clothing. They like what I do. They applaud me for it. After all the huge amoust of work, I guess it pays off.

"What are you doing out here?" Samuel approached me from behind.

I was sitting at the fountain. It was dark outside and there was no one around. I just wanted the peace and quiet.

"You look like a mess." Sammy sat there next to me.

Yes, well, after running from here to there I felt like crawling over and just dying. My mascara was slightly blotched, I'd lost the lipstick, I had taken off my heels. I felt just like how I looked: a disaster. Fashion week itself was more like an obligation. I was thankful that I had to be pushed to do it, but I couldn't deny that I was down on the slumps. I was trying to fight through, I was trying to see the light. I was doing all that I could not to develop an alter personality that would serve as an escape to all the problems I was facing.

"Are you smoking?" Samuel gasped.

I was. It was de-stressing. It took away any semblance of hunger I might have, which allowed me to have more time to do more things. And smoking was also semi-smoothing.

"Helloooooooo... are you there? I'm TALKING to you?"

I looked at him and then shook my head. "I'm here. Barely, but here nonetheless."

He stared at me. "You know. You don't have to do this if you don't like it; the whole fashion week thing, I mean."

"I do like it."

"You look positively miserable! Sure, in there you're all smiles and thrills but I know you better!"

I sighed. "I like it. I just feel overall miserable with my life, alright?"

"And why is that?"

"A lot of reasons. I'm already talking it all out with Rudyard and such." I looked down "I just feel stuck, and ready to just give up. Why... no matter what I do, I always come back to square one and end up feeling like shit. I love you and you're my best friend, but I feel like I'm closed up in this far away place... and I just want to run and get away from it all. Why can't I just be happy? I want to be happy. I want to be accepted and loved and cared for and protected. I don't want to feel like a burden, like I'm a failure at everything I do...." I wanted to cry. AGAIN. I was so pathetic.

Sammy wrapped an arm around me. "You are ever the perfectionist. Happiness doesn't happen in ONE second. You can't have it all. It's okay..." he sighed and placed a hand on my head "you're greatest problem is that you do everything and hence you're not satisfied by one thing. Hey, it's okay if you fail, it's okay if you feel like shit, we all do. You already do enough. As for loving you and accepting you and protecting you, I'm here for you. And I'll always be. I know you're in a dark place. You're trying to desperately swim through. Just, take things slowly, you'll figure it out. You're smart, sexy, beautiful, and you will figure it out."

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

"No, I know you too well. You don't really need me to tell you this. You have me, and you know it. I know you're thankful for it, but it's not enough for you. You need actions, you really do need someone who will shake some sense into you, and I'm not really that person. I'm your confident, you're amigo, but I can only get so far."

"That's not..."

"That's exactly it." He laughed good naturedly "I'm more like your go to GIRL than the kind of person you need right now. But it's alright, Lucille." he grabbed my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "I'm not going to let you fall. I'm not going to let you go into that place you say you might end up. You might be free to give up on yourself, but I surely am not giving up on you."

I hugged him. "I know."

"Know then." he grabbed my arm, threw the cigarrette from my mouth and took out various makeup items from his pocket. "I'm not letting your HOT ass freeze in this place." he rapidly placed a bunch of products in my face and murmured "Perfecto."

I laughed as he pulled me towards the show. "Lucille, smile, you're the face of this fashion week, you're my star. Shine."

When I went back in I was truly smiling. I really thank him for not letting go.