How Very Ironic

Kendra’s leg was broken from the fall she took onstage. Nothing could explain the shame she felt then, or when they took her to the hospital and asked if she’d allow visitors.

She said yes, not that anyone would come.

Kendra wanted fucking everything. This was the price. She added a hard move into the routine in the heat of the moment to impress someone, anyone, and now her career was over. Gone.

Evan was, too. He left her a voicemail that said he’d decided to visit him family back in Oregon, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be back.

Bullshit, he knew he wasn’t coming back. She knew it. Gina Hallas knew it.

Kendra didn’t think it was even worth it anymore. She wasted all of her time and energy on becoming someone and loving Evan, but neither were working out. Her life wasn’t working out.
She wasn’t ever going to be what she wanted. Why even fucking try anymore?

Her cast was itchy and she felt even more pathetic than right when she left the hospital and realized she had no way of getting home other than walking.

She was not needed, she was not wanted. She wasn’t even sure she actually existed. Was anything around her real? Maybe she lived in some God’s imagination. Maybe everything was made out of paper and plastic and she was a part of some wicked game.

Or maybe she was just a fuck-up.

A greedy fuck-up that ruined her own life because she wanted to be someone else. Someone brilliant, someone beautiful.

None of it seemed to even matter anymore.

How ironic. Once everything was lost with no chance of returning, she realized what she had failed to see all along, she discovered what was really important.

How very fucking ironic.