I am not hurt.



I don't need a second chance with him, or a life I thought I had.



While he was out forgetting me to become a movie star, I was building a career out of nothing. A career as a paparazzi, but a career. For a foster kid who bounced around every home in Los Angeles, that wasn't easy.



This camera is all I have.



He's nothing to me. Every time I take his picture and sell it, I remind myself that I did it all without him or his approval, his cinnamon smell or his lithe body. He can light up the screen like a celestial body, but he's nothing to me.



He can throw my camera off a balcony, and nothing has to change. We can stay king and queen of the same city, and different worlds.



Except this is Hollywood, and here, anything can happen.