Is love ever too little or too late?

Another woman with early fame and a difficult later life is Bettie Page. I'm rather fascinated by her enduring legacy although her life was downhill after all of that famous photo work. I wonder how she felt about her past and whether there were too many regrets about what she did or didn't want to do. Do we becomes stars as we create this persona of ourselves? Or does it become real once others have seen it and fallen in love with it? That might be the tragedy of love: we wait until others see it in us.