Galería de Cherrie

Watching queens lipsync twenty feet from me and all I can think is that's gonna be me someday. But tonight I just needed a second to myself to feel this good. Tell me I don't look like a star.

Woke up with no alarm and nowhere to be, so the sheets are on the floor and I'm not putting anything on for anyone. What would you do if you walked in right now?

Thursday mornings hit different — the week's already worn you down a little but there's still enough left to pretend you've got it together. Standing at the window with coffee I didn't make, watching some guy across the street walk his dog in slippers, and thinking maybe that's the kind of peace I should want. Or maybe I just like watching other people have it.

The L train decided not to run and cabs are a luxury I'm saving for actual emergencies, so I'm walking home in my platforms like the whole city is my runway. Every streetlight is my personal spotlight now.

Everyone else is still asleep, which means the fire escape garden is all mine for the next hour. These tomatoes don't care about last night — they just want their water and their patch of sun.

Half stage, half me — there's something satisfying about peeling off the glitter one cotton pad at a time and finding the real person underneath.

Three hours of being watched and wanted, and now I'm just here — no sequins, no platform heels, just me in a slip dress watching the city pretend it sleeps.

Roommate walked in, saw me still in bed with my cherry coke and phone, and said "rough night?" — I said "no, perfect morning actually." She didn't ask again.

The last swipe of red before I become someone else for a few hours — there's a version of me that only exists under those lights, and I'm about to let her out.

Finally got this red sequin number to sit right — three hours of pinning and re-pinning, but when it catches the light like this, I know it's going to kill on the dance floor tonight.