𝐄𝐔𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀.

2.

August 29th, 1992.
- Astoria.

new day, new pain.
my mind was still clouded from yesterday's incident with my sister, but I had to start off fresh.

today wasn't about my crazy family, today was about me. about my talent.

"aw c'mon, work" I viciously banged the curling iron against the marble counter of my bathroom. and today was already starting off half bad. I woke up late with smudged drool all over my face & pillow. And then I had bed hair.

the absolute worse. now as I'm half way done with curling my hair my iron decides to give out.
and not to mention the art event starts in half an hour.

and you know that saying, women take longer in the mirror then men. and well yes, strange stereotype but it's true for me.

when I was with my ex, he always told me how I would take a whole entire century on one part of my face, because of my perfectionist antics. when really I just wanted everything right, not perfect but right.

and now I'm doing that exact same thing, but to impress michael jackson & his audience?

I mean what did I have to look good for? nobody really, I was going to show off my talent, not my face.

"well, gonna' have to go like this" I chuckled at my crazy curls. like I said once before, I wasn't looking good for anyone.

1 hour later.

"Oceané" I yelled over the loud music blasting from the giant speaker, trying to catch my friends attention.

Which was a failed attempt as the dancing bodies around me, pushed me away.

I hated crowded places but I should've expected this amount of people. I mean it's 1992 & it's michael Jackson, couldn't get any better than this.

"hey girl, I was looking everywhere for you" a raspy voice came from behind which I soon recognised was my friends oceané's.

causing me to turn around with a fake plastered smile on my face as I was met with the strong perfume laid over her exterior clothing.

"yea me too, but this place is packed with probably over hundreds of people" I stated pulling away from her minty hug before hearing the static of a microphone, as the entire building grew quiet.

"oh my god, astoria he's so beautiful" oceané whispered as she stood not too far from behind me, she was much taller so I didn't get the full view that she got but I definitely could see what she was talking about.

it was michael jackson & a few of his body guards whispering about something I couldn't make out. but that soon went to the back of my mind as his soft angelic voice boomed through the speakers.

"uh, hello everyone, I would just like to thank you all for coming, I mean I don't rarely celebrate my birthday but it was suggested" he started off before pausing, turning to a broad shouldered man to the left of him.

"wonder what their whispering about" I spoke out as if I just said the wrong thing, I laughed to myself thinking no one heard me but of course oceané had good hearing.

"me too, it's like hurry up mike, we're here to get the beez-wax" oceané aggressively spoke in a strong covered british accent. which I found strange how she could be born in America and be raised around Americans but not sound a thing like one.

"—sorry, but uhm, it was suggested by a dear friend of mine that I come out to New York to help raise awareness to the young artists who don't get paid enough for their jobs. I mean I love art as well, and if it wasn't for music I'll probably be somewhere painting the next big thing"

he smiled, his white pearly teeth flashing off of every wall that surrounded us.

this guy wasn't half bad. I mean of course I've listened to his music but I wasn't big on his looks. but to see him up close in person, was a whole different story.

"tonight we're starting an art campaign, for the best art in New York City. And not only are we offering cash but we're offering an opportunity for you to join along on my history tour"

and boom, the crowd went absolutely wild. Whistling. Screaming. Laughing.

as I just stood there unfazed, should I really compete? is it worth it?

not sure.

( i might fast forward so it don't get boring )