Tears of Tomorrow


2015 Fiction Writer Anthony Darden


A proud, small town girl, at odds with her mother, decides to pack up and move to LA. She finds fame and fortune, only to lose it all to the treacherous underbelly of a drugged out good life. With nowhere to go, she finds herself trapped in LA with no way out. Now working as a worthless waitress in a strip club, she dangles on the edge of uncertainty with a man she neither likes nor trust. 



1
I was born June 3rd, 1983, the new generation. The big bloom. Moms were getting out of the house then. They were no longer constrained to being a nobody. They could make their own money. They no longer had to depend on a man. So right off bat, my mother didn’t really have time to raise me. Too busy chasing the consumerist slave. I was more paid off as a kid then given real honest to God parenting. I spent most of my time on the latest smartphone, the latest notebook, and in front of the TV with Xbox and the high price games. I had them all, fifty to a hundred dollars a pop. Mom I need this. Mom I need that. Mom just gave me a credit card, got tired of me asking. Or was it, she was too busy on the slave ship. I don’t know. Didn’t really care. The promises I had long got over. It was like a cycle. Repeat it in your head. Mom can we do this? Yes, dear, set it up. No dear, I’m sorry, I have to work. Mom can we do this? Yes, dear, set it up. No dear, I’m sorry, I have to work. Like an old recording.
By the time I was seventeen, I had become somewhat of a media star. I had found out, after posting artwork on Instagram, fans became more obsessed with the artist behind the artwork. One good thing about my mother’s money, it paid for good schooling. I had started making digital CD covers for mixtape artists. Then I started branding the covers with my selfie logos. Next thing you know my Instagram page is blowing up. First it was the mixtape artists wanting me to hook them up with a nice CD cover. They also paid me to post an ad for them on my Instagram page. By then I had close to three hundred thousand follows, and was the go to person if you wanted a nice CD cover and some exposure.
Then came the rappers. Hey baby, I want to put you in a video. Hey, this is me, can we hang out, I’d like to get to know you. Big time celebrities were linking up to my page. At home, I was the talk of the town.  I was somebody. I felt like someone. I felt important and love for the first time in my life. My mother couldn’t understand it. She would just look at me in disgust and shake her head. She wanted me to get a real job. Said I was wasting my time sitting around doing nothing with my life. It always ended with, after all I've done for you. We could barely stand to be in the same room together. The minute I turned eighteen, I packed my bags and got the hell out of there. I didn't even bother to leave a note. 



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