Blonde dreamsicle, rainbow sprinkles. The hollywood hills, expensive hotels and that little girl that dreamed of being in the movies. The little girl that sat at her mother's vanity, putting lipstick on her cheeks and rouge on her eyelids. There was nobody more beautiful to her in the world than her mother. A lady of blonde locks and baby blue eyes, her mother was in the league of Marilyn Monroe for all she knew. The blonde rival. When she entered high school, "the private school model hardened and dyed itself blonde." Knots and anxiety got the best of her, so she cut her boyfriend's band tees and wore studs on her wrists. A psychological mess, being a rebel required certain changes. So she lost her dreamy side, forgot about hollywood, ice cream and dolls. The lust for life faded and she began to have nightmares. It wasn't until years later that she decided to find her way back. Get off the floor and pick up the paint brush. She began to dance again, and paint, and sing, and wear make-up. And when she did cry... well, she felt her tears. They were real.