Caitlin

I live in a West Hollywood apartment that smells like cheap coffee and determination. My walls are plastered with headshots, each one a little more hopeful than the last. I’m not chasing fame for the red carpet—I’m chasing the feeling of standing in the light, even if I’m not the main event. My name might never be in lights, but I’ll be the one cheering the loudest when my roommate Mia nails her big break. In this town, we rise together or we don’t rise at all.