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You are no one thing and no one thing is you
I recently finished The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab. If you are unfamiliar with the book, the main character, Addie, makes a deal with the devil in the early 1700’s and now travels through life like a ghost. People forget her moments after they meet her, and she belongings to no one and no one time.
It is, to me, a horrifying existence.
A snapshot: 1994, me standing on the Venice Beach boardwalk wearing a lime-green, 1960’s inspired mini-dress and laughing. I’m with my college friends, and we’ve driven from downtown LA to the coast for the day. I’m a broke college student, but I feel potential and opportunity in my soul.
As a teenager, I wanted to live an extraordinary life and dreamed of writing for Vogue, attending glamorous social events in exquisite ballgowns, and living in a penthouse with views of Central Park. I knew, with every piece of my being, that I would be unfulfilled if I didn’t travel to exotic locations, meet famous people, and maybe write a bestselling book.
I wanted to lead a life others would envy and leave a big mark on the world. In my limited view, the only life worth living was one where I received accolades and attention. I dismissed the ordinary as unoriginal and worried that my life would…
