Lucy Oswald (test character for Cityscape...)

I failed. I'm crushed. I'm obliterated. My chances are destroyed. My career is no more. I became "the poor struggling artist" my parents insisted I'd become. And do they care? No, they say they "told me so" and think it would be great for me to "experience real life" as "a valuable lesson" for my (and I say this straight from the horse's mouth) "blunt ignorance and blatant stupidity." Wow... thanks, Mom and Dad, for the morale booster. Since we're on the subject of life choices, how smart do you think it was to sleep with the office postal girl, Dad, and be dumb enough to let Mom find out? And was it wise, Mom, to spend your life savings like we were on the verge of the apocalypse on clothes and booze until you had to file for bankruptcy? You two make star role models.

But I can't help but wonder how I became the stereotype? How did I end up in this concrete cage called a "city-view" apartment? The "city" I "view" is a grungy brick wall with "cunt" spray-painted across it. And to see that I have to climb atop the stained, moth-eaten sofa, rub the grime on the window around with my sleeve (Clorox can't even get this crap off), and peer through the twisted, dented window bars.

The only reason Steve and Gary got that contract from the MET is because they presented their homosexuality as the delectable entree, while their art was only the after dinner mint. Doesn't matter that their designs are crap. Doesn't matter that I spent seven weeks preparing my stunning showcase, using favors that would have only grown sweeter over time, manipulating those who would have been just as vulnerable down the line, squashing the idiots who stood in my way. Now they're laughing at me as they, too, throw me out the door. All I got from the bigwigs was your standard weak rejection. They told me, "We just don't think you're the right fit..." And why not? Because I don't have some gay lover hanging off my arm, grabbing my ass every five minutes? And Gary goes through guys like toilet paper - he uses them, then disposes of them. Steve will be where I am in two weeks.