Dreams

Everybody has a dream. I am no exception. Some girls dream of being a ballerina, or having a pony or having babies. Not me. My dreams were bigger.

I wanted to be a hand model.

A lady at the mall told me I should be one when I was 11, and ever since then I've thought of it as a nice back up plan for life. Aside from my Barcelona back up plan. One can never have too many back up plans.

But, tragically, my hand modeling dreams have been crushed. The side of my pinkie finger was caught in a tragic battle between metal and magnets. Strong magnets that unexpectedly pulled the key chain around my pinkie to them. My pinkie was an innocent bystander.

Now it has a small red dot memorizing where the tragic event took place.

No one will ever hire me now. It may take years for this blemish to dissipate. No one will hire a washed-up, would-be, hand model then.

I have no dreams.