(no subject)
She was drifting.
Perfection was an unattainable goal. There was nothing for her to strive for. No career. No featured role. No performances. Without those things, that perfect moment of letting go seemed... futile. What was the point of losing oneself if there was nothing to find on the other side of it?
The loneliness, above all else, was getting to her. She'd crammed her days full, in New York, had her mother breathing down her neck every free moment, and now, she had so much time on her hands. So much time alone with only her own mind... Which was a dangerous territory in of itself.
That night, she'd claimed a table at The Winchester, ordered a plate of food she wasn't eating, the seat across from her glaringly empty. The man behind the bar had offered her a drink, but she'd ordered tea, embarrassed at the thought of drinking alone. She'd watched him, smoking and reading a book during a lull, and finally, she'd asked him for a cigarette, feeling a nastily childish thrill of pleasure at the fit her mother would've pitched if she'd caught Nina smoking.
And now, that old bitch was alone for all she knew, and the worst part was, in that moment, Nina couldn't bring herself to care.
Perfection was an unattainable goal. There was nothing for her to strive for. No career. No featured role. No performances. Without those things, that perfect moment of letting go seemed... futile. What was the point of losing oneself if there was nothing to find on the other side of it?
The loneliness, above all else, was getting to her. She'd crammed her days full, in New York, had her mother breathing down her neck every free moment, and now, she had so much time on her hands. So much time alone with only her own mind... Which was a dangerous territory in of itself.
That night, she'd claimed a table at The Winchester, ordered a plate of food she wasn't eating, the seat across from her glaringly empty. The man behind the bar had offered her a drink, but she'd ordered tea, embarrassed at the thought of drinking alone. She'd watched him, smoking and reading a book during a lull, and finally, she'd asked him for a cigarette, feeling a nastily childish thrill of pleasure at the fit her mother would've pitched if she'd caught Nina smoking.
And now, that old bitch was alone for all she knew, and the worst part was, in that moment, Nina couldn't bring herself to care.