For some I suppose it would seem a bit crowded, overstimulating, and not calm in the slightest. However, for me, the vibrant colors, the mishmash of collectables, and the cluttered walls, full of posters, theater masks, photos, and feather boas were comforting. I’d transplanted my dorm room to this place, added to it each week, combined the past and present. It was a constant reminder of where I came from, where I was, and where I was going. Nestled in its folds, the place held both happiness and sorrow. Perhaps that was what put me at ease—balance. Standing at the window, staring out at the New York skyline, contract in hand, I felt anything but at ease. In fact, since I’d received the document from my agent hours ago via courier, I’d felt the walls were closing in on me and found it difficult to breathe. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” he’d said. “You’ll be a star, baby, a huge star.” The second statement was the same one tons of model wannabes and young kids had heard when stepping into a sleazy, self-proclaimed agent to the stars’ office.
