What happened? What honestly happened that made my reality so... dull? I replayed those same questions and more inside my head as I shuffled through my playlist. I kept pushing skip until I got frustrated and threw my phone, earphones along with it. All the same songs from old times. Times where things made sense. See the thing is, I honestly didn't know what was wrong. I should be happy.

I was one of the top most recognized models in the world. I pushed the boundaries of the model industry for women and men of all race and body types. I, Vida Cortes, a biual woman of color, paved the way for others like me. I was known throughout the media as the "face of a new revolution in fashion". All this and under the age of 22. This is exactly where I dreamed of being. Then why did I feel so...empty? I had this constant feeling like I was looking for something. But what? What was I looking so desperately for? Why now?

I rolled around in my bed so I now I was looking up at the ceiling fan. For the past 6 years I have been in the business I always tried to stay true to myself no matter what. When I moved to Tokyo 4 years ago, those same morals didn't shift, yet maybe some other feelings did. 

I knew I could do great things if I just took the risk, even if it meant leaving everything behind. Even if it meant leaving the two I treasured the most behind back in that old skateboard park in Miami. Watching their faces drop as I broke the news to them. I may have succeeded in my goal but at what expense? I promised to keep in touch, but we all knew words like those were as useful as pinky promises passes between kindergartners.

Andrew, age 23. Andrew and I met when I was only 8, him 9. I was homeschooled my whole life, with my mother being a world-known fashion designer and a single parent, constantly too busy for me to actually attend school. It was great and all but the downfall? I was painfully shy. Andrew changed all that, though. It was at small skate park near my house. I never did try to skateboard in my life before, nor did I intend to at the time, I simply loved to watch the older kids. Andrew was one of them. That day, though, things were different. 

Maybe I sat a little too close to the park. Maybe it was the fall leaves bundles up besides me, flashing red, orange, and yellow like a beacon. Whatever it was, that day Andrew noticed me instead of the other way around. I hadn't even heard his footsteps approaching me, being too entertained with the blue sky. He plopped down besides me, keeping his skateboard in his lap. His first ever words to me weren't all that grand, yet most likely changed my whole childhood. "Why don't you ever join us?" He had extended out his small hand. "Name's Andrew, by the way."

I want to say that I calmly responded with a "My name is Vida" or something and joined him but that would be far from the truth. I actually accidently punched him in the nose, causing him to bleed. I hadn't even thought twice before getting the small rag I kept in my backpack (honestly, for an 8 year-old you wouldn't expect me to carry around medical supplies, but I did) and pathetically tried to stop the bleeding. Till this day, after 14 damned years, Andrew still wont let that go. Andrew played a really big role in my life and I never fail to remember how important he is to me. He was the one to get me started in skateboarding and break out my shell to experience a whole new lifestyle. He really did change my life.

Kekoa, non-binary, age 20. I met them when I was 10, Andrew and I were riding through a neighborhood when we spotted them. Kekoa was trying desperately to Ollie off a railing. It was a puny one at that, only a few inches off the ground. Yet, what really caught my attention was the pure determination burning through their eyes so intensely you wouldn't believe Kekoa was only 10 at the time. I had looked over at Andrew and saw that he was as intrigued in this small kid as I was.

 What we didn't know was that Keko, by the age of 17, would be known throughout the entire underground skateboard community for being able to ollie of some of the most unbelievable stuff. Always pushing themselves harder and harder each time, totally ignoring my pestering on being careful. Although, honestly we all did some pretty reckless things when it came to skateboarding.

The three us started a whole life together. My childhood honestly wasn't the best, but I always could find home with them. Home... I stopped on the word, tracing it over and over on the blanket sheets next to me. Maybe that was what I was searching for. Maybe I was being too wishful. Believing that something would sweep into my life and magically change it all. 

Suddenly, that same phrase popped back into my head. "Give your all on endurance, not explosiveness." In all honestly, I didn't quite get it all. I couldn't even remember whom I had heard it from. Yet, I always remembered it for some reason. I mouthed the phrase, trying to grasp the full meaning, but once again failing.

A faint beep pulled me from my thoughts. My phone, I thought distantly. I willed my legs to work as I sat up and patted around my bed, looking to where I had thrown it earlier. Once I found it, seeing that I had two missed calls from my manager, Sharon, groaned and flopped on my bed. I pressed the call back button hesitantly. 

"Vida! Why didn't you answer my calls? Anyways, you have a shoot today." Rustling was going on in the background and her voice was coated with annoyance. "Ugh, I don't have time right now. I already told Zahra about the basic information. Bye." I checked my other messages and sure enough, Zhara had already sent me the "basic information". 

Zhara was my personal make-up artist but might as well be my manager as well for she filled in all the potholes Sharon forgot to cover up, which were a lot. Zhara was from India and her name quite literally translated to "beauty" which was an understatement for how stunning Zhara was; both inside and out.

With internal argument, I rolled off my bed and quickly gathered some of my essentials in my backpack (extra clothes for after the shoot, earphones, books, and the ever persisting, medical supplies). I glanced at the mirror quickly and winced at the state of my hair. I tossed it into a messy ponytail and rubbed my face as if I could rub away any signs of sleep. 

I felt slightly bad that I was making Zhara and the other staff members have extra work by showing up like a mess, but from the text Zhara sent, I did not really have the time to be pretentious on my looks. I rummaged through my closet till I found a scarf, soft shirt, my favorite trench coat, gloves, thick legging, and some worn out boots. I checked the mirror again at my messily thrown together outfit. 

I never fully got how to dress for winter with growing up in Miami where the word "cold" didn't exist. Whatever, as long as I don't freeze to death. I picked up my backpack from the floor and ran downstairs. I quickly located where I had left my keys from the night before and made my way out the door.