the one that got away.

After her dreams of going to university crumbled, she was left to hold on the fringes that were left of her fame.

From performing at bars, to open mic nights at the local college, she was using her only talent left to keep her off the streets.

Her name rolled off the tongues of everyone, as maybe somewhere in 2008, she graced the name of every newspaper and magazine in the Western Hemisphere. But she was unrecognizable, with dirty brown hair, mud streaks on her clothing, and rundown sneakers.

But her efforts had paid off. Saving as much money as possible, pursuing as many possible jobs as she could, she soon worked her way up to the annual Toronto Music Festival.

Celebrities (even American ones!) came to gift society with their newest song, while directors and talent scouts came from around the world to decide who their newest star would be. And talents from all over Canada, came to showcase their talent. Like her.

So she saved up, for a nice dress shirt, reminiscent of what she wore back in the day, and a pair of blue jeans, and flats, and bought a ticket on a bus to the city. She scrolled through her Instagram, seeing who would come to the Superbowl-level-exciting search for stars. The usual, were as she expected. Some upcoming European boy bands were coming as well- One Direction as they called themselves. A four-time Grammy award winning tenor. Oh, so much more.

She bit her inner cheek. What was she thinking? There would be hundreds of talented folk there- and what did she have to bring? Her little talent, if you could call it that, of singing and her background of doing choir in middle school?

It was foolish to stress herself hours before the festival, and with a sigh, tucked her phone into her bag, and looked at the moving scenery.

With nothing but a bag filled with tampons, a pair of socks, a phone, and papers filled with lyrics in her right hand, and a bottle of water in left, she entered Tortonto's annual music festival- which, she hoped, was her breaking point.

She entered the atmosphere of the festival, and the overwhelming smell of the city consumed her. The yelling of security guards intertwining with a guitarist's strumming chords; the glitter-covered pumps of a pop-star juxtaposed against the leather boots of a indie-band leader; the presidents of music-companies who held contracts with celebrities you could only dream of shaking hands with just another college student chasing after the dream- surely, she was in the right place.

With a reservation booked on the east stage, where most of the long-haired guitarists who had their hopes of being the next Ed Sheeran or Rick Astley (perhaps even both) were set to perform, she headed over and sat down on one of the chairs. She gracefully pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper filled with lyrics and notes, and began to read it over and over again.

Lost in her own sing-songy world, a voice brought her back to reality. She couldn't remember the name of the artist, but all she knew was she was next. Holding her lyrics close to her, she headed over to the backstage.

The dimly lit backstage was filled with, as she stated, mostly college hipsters, but there was an emo-punk with eyeliner smudged around his eyes and a wannabe-superstar in a full peplum outfit and an exaggerated cat-winged eyeliner in bright blue there as well.

She headed to one of the empty vanities, and pulled out a drugstore lipstick to apply to her lips. She didn't have any makeup- she was barely making the rent on time, needless to say- but one lipstick, for a performance this special, didn't hurt.

A sneer appeared on the face of the catwing-bearing popstar.

"That's all you're wearing?" she asked, with a slight edge to her voice. Her accent had a hint of what was possibly New York City.