What I hate even worse is I know you, you're no mystery.
Yeah, so, the first day back in Los Angeles, I get a surprise visit from my ex-husband, Chris. God, things were going so good for me, but then he shows up and tosses everything up into the air. I hate him... I think.
No, no, I hate him.
After his little "visit", I spent the rest of the afternoon and good portion of the night curled up in a ball and sobbing like a fucking child. Over what? I mean, I'm over the guy.. I have to put him in the past. We're through.
It's not fair what he's doing to me.
Once my tear ducts ran dry, I just lied in bed in a somewhat comatose trance.. just staring at my ceiling, thinking, wondering, letting my anger towards him manifest in my chest for hours before breaking into a fresh new bout of tears. As silly as I feel crying over something that's gone, it's shaken me up pretty badly. I haven't slept since..
I just want answers. Why he left. What her name was; the girl he so obviously divorced me for. She had to be awfully special, because he had me fooled into believing that I was the greatest thing in the world and he'd never love another. That was bull shit. The whole marriage was bull shit.
Conor is here now, which is a huge help. Being alone only gave me the chance to wallow in my paranoia and drown in this sea of confusion, suffocate in my reminescence. He's saving me yet again.
...Is it horrible that I want to talk to Chris again? I want him to tell me everything, everything that went down while he was touring and I was at home. That way, I might get some closure. Some peace. That way, I'd really be able to let go and cut these strings that keep me bound and tied back from living my life and loving freely.
Yes, that's horrible, Katherine. What are you thinking?