Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
No one knows that I have this new way of thinking and looking at things, not even Sydney, because it’s my little secret weapon. It’s the thing that makes me smile inside while idiots are trying to tear me down on the outside, and so far, it’s been working very well. I’m not sure how much of that is the pills and how much is the woman I would’ve wanted to be before my life went to hell, but whatever.
I read some of the comments, but it was all meh; nothing new there, just the same old same old. People who didn’t know me from Adam were once again telling my life story. Sometimes I don’t find out certain things about who I am until I see it in print.
No wonder my mind goes off on a tangent every once in a while because their reality of me is so far from the truth I have to wonder. Are these people making up shit and knowingly lying to sell gossip rags? Or do they really believe this shit? And if they do believe it, am I really doing these things with no recall?
I wasn’t interested enough to even give it a second thought, that was until I landed in L.A. hours later, and shit had hit the fan. The first I heard of it was when I was mobbed at the airport as soon as I walked outside. Now, most of what I’d learned about myself over the years came from the mouths of the paparazzi. Most of it is for shit, a lot of made-up bullshit to sell stories, but every once in a while, they’d drop a little gem of a nugget, and you know some shit’s about to go down.
What I picked up from the questions being thrown at me was that the nepotism offspring, heretofore known as the nepo babies and Ryder’s beard, had got ahold of that photo from earlier and done some kind of skit about it, making fun of me, and it had backfired. All of this in less than six hours.
I have no interest, really; those three can send me spiraling into insanity, literally, so I’ve made it a point to ignore that they even exist. But they don’t know that, apparently, so they keep treading on. It was my job, though, to make an appeal to my fans to let these idiots live. Again!
Why couldn’t he have found someone with a lick of sense to marry so I could have some peace? He probably did that shit to piss me off, choosing the most annoying beast he could find to get under my skin. I wish the frig that he’d crawl out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in for the last few months and put a leash on his pet so I could breathe without her on my ass.
I walked into the house and locked myself in my room, pacing back and forth and ignoring everyone who came to my door knocking. Rachel was the most persistent, but my aunt and uncle respected my wishes and left me alone. Rachel finally took the hint, though I think she thought I was in there crying, whatever.
I was gearing myself up to look at the posts that the paparazzi were only too happy to fill me in on to see what exactly it was that they’d done to send my fans and even people who didn’t know me into a frenzy. Honestly, I’d rather just ignore the whole thing, but there’s one little truth I refuse to mention out loud, and that is, if she’s hurting, then he, too, would be hurting.
Had my love for him been a flash in the pan, I wouldn’t give a toot about him or his feelings, but because that fool still lives rent-free in my head and a large part of my heart, I can’t bear to see him suffer. He’s always needed a keeper, and apparently, his wife has no idea how to reel him in, something I used to be very good at.
I know in the beginning, he didn’t stop her because he was mad at me; I only understood this years later once the dust cleared and I was thinking straight again. But I know him somewhat, and this is not his style, not to let it go on for this long. Then again, he was nowhere around to keep her muzzled, so she’d decided, along with the plastic Barbies, to start a new open season on my newly plump butt.
I pulled up the post, which had been deleted by them but saved for all posterity by someone else and reposted. It didn’t look so bad to me, and there was a toss-up on whether or not they were referring to me in their little ditty (only if you believe in pink elephants and purple dinosaurs), but I digress.