The book was pure escapism. I practically binge-read it over the past few days. 

It is a profound read, perhaps because I draw parallels between Evelyn’s life and mine, particularly in our shared identity as bisexual women, and perhaps because it provides yet again, a gentle reminder that life is short, too short.  

Evelyn, the fictional Hollywood icon, is breathtakingly beautiful, magnetic and the center of attention in any room she enters.

Yet what truly captivated me about Evelyn is that she is not just beautiful, but ambitious and relentless. She knows her worth and uses her strength to get what she wants, unapologetically. 

That is the beauty of being a woman. We are versatile, and no one should shame us for using our identity to achieve what we want.  

I admire her drive and her character. For a moment, I wanted to say I admired her fame, her Oscar win, her million dollar properties. But the truth is, her success wouldn’t exist without her character.  

On top of that, she is fiercely protective of her loved ones. 

Reading stories like this makes me feel prouder and confident in my own identity as a bisexual woman. 

Love, to me, is fluid— it is about the connection between people, not their gender. Relationships come down to compatibility: whether my date and I share similar goals, whether we can support each other, and help each other grow. 

Being in my thirties, I’ve noticed this motherly nurturing side of me emerging. I crave stability, and am becoming more supportive of the people around me and less reckless than before— though that childlike part of me still surface from time to time especially with my closest friends. 😛  

The book highlights a lot of relatable experiences as a bi-sexual woman— the confusion and excitement of falling in love with a woman for the first time, and navigating coming out repeatedly depending on who I was with and where I was at. 

My heart broke towards the end as Evelyn’s loved ones died. Her fifth husband and best friend, Harry Cameron, whom she was in marriage for 15 years, died in a car crash at age 58, and her own daughter, Connor, died of breast cancer at 39. 

And how old I am now? Gosh, I don’t even want to think about it. Time is so short, too short.  

Anyway, the book was such a great read. I want to start reflecting more intentionally after each read, hence this journal entry. 

In sum, I am who I am. Own it. Be brave and work hard, who knows how many years one may have left? Figure out what I want— and go after it.