Corinne had always thrived in a crowd. All through high school, she drew friends like a magnet. Boys too.
Scouted by a Hollywood agent at eighteen, she found instant stardom and the adoring fans who came with it. Life was good.
Today, as she aimlessly walked the crowded streets of Paris, she was glad no one recognized her. For the first time in her life, she felt completely alone. No one had died. No one had left her. But she had realized, suddenly, that no one loved her. Corinne was a commodity and always had been.
Worse, she understood, now, that not only did no one know her, she didn’t know herself. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she dialed the number for an ashram her new meditation coach had suggested. India for three months sounded good right now.
Before she could change her mind, she booked her flight and headed back to her car where her already packed suitcase waited. India was where she was going to fall in love—with herself.
I’ve always wondered about the interior lives of popular girls. I did get a peek in when I treated a few later in life for depression. I suspect they get lonely like anyone else. I wonder how many don’t find time for the introspection we natural introverts tend to engage in.
I thought I’d explore the life of a girl who had it all, only to discover she had nothing. I’m not claiming this is true of popular girls in general. Just this one.