Catch

'We should be more grateful for what we have. Think of all the girls who would die to be in our position... flown out to be on a yacht in Cannes, having your American work visa paid for - people find it difficult just trying to get a tourist visa! We live the high life, we're at the very pinnacle of elite society. We have lavish dinners paid for by billionaires and get begged to attended incredible events. Everyone wants to be us!'
I overhear the text-book-beautiful blonde emphatically say to a small clique of listeners who, drawing exactly the same conclusions when they consider their own lives, nod vigorously at her.

I look down at my arm-sized lobster and a waitress pours me a glass of champagne; her hair pulled back tightly, her free arm pressed firmly into the small of her back, her four steady fingers leave imprints on the film of dust encasing the old bottle.
I consider my current position. In New York, Manhattan for that matter and in the Meatpacking district to be precise. On the terrace of an expensive fish restaurant. A private dinner party to celebrate the owner's birthdays. Weary from the emotional movie premier I just went to at the MOMA with my Hollywood actor friend who I had just spent a weekend in the Hamptons with.
People have said hello to me and I have said hello to people, we have had short and witty conversations. We have laughed by force, talked about ourselves and then each spotted other people we'd rather talk to and excused ourselves politely from the conversation with a coda of 'let's have a drink soon'. I have figured out who in the room could be of use or interest to me and sought out to make myself endearing to them and they have all done the same. The model flirts with the gropy old retail giant and the predatory producers pounce on the young 'serious actresses'... or are they in fact placing themselves knowingly in their claws?
Look at all these people I know - look at all the lovely friends I have!

The pressure to be prefect, admired, adorned, important, influential, iconic, different, unique, mysterious and successful builds like tar in my lungs. My insecurities are so heightened I feel like they are written across my face. Wanting to be better means comparing yourself to others and there and countless others doing better than you - social media will show you if you dare look.
The beauty pageant, the rat race, unfair play and dirty tricks. This wasn't what you thought it would be.
A stagnant career, slowly going backwards. Too much time on your hands to do nothing but think. But thinking makes you over-think. Any minor set-back or rejection is suddenly playing over and over in your head. Did you ever expect something to small to break you?

'Everyone wants to be us, we live the high-life, we're living the dream!' The silent nodding might as well have been applause.

I think about her words carefully and sit in silence. I have never been so sad in my life.
Saddness blackens my vision and a knife cuts down the length of my throat as I try to swallow. The weight of a small elephant crushes my chest and I can barely breathe.
I excuse myself.
And leave.