I had never been a victim of "the morning after" until now.
You know—leaving the location that you had sex at with a mixture of guilt and pleasure in your system, wearing the same clothes as the night before, holding your head down, that sort of thing.
After getting dressed in the clothes I wore the day before, Sebastian walks me out of his house to his driveway. Despite holding my head down, the bright sun still burns my eyes.
Even the sun is judging me.
I haven't turned on my phone since last night. It's both a blessing and a curse; I hate being so disconnected, yet it is nice to detach once in a while. Plus, Sebastian would roll his eyes if I turned on my phon
It's my fault for thinking this wouldn't happen. Usually I would admit to my own fault with a hint of uncertainty, using words such as "I guess" or "I suppose." I won't use them this time; this is my fault. Point. Blank. Period. I went this long, letting the lie accumulate into something that it never would have been if I were just honest in the first place. In my defense, I thought Sebastian wouldn't open up to me if he knew I was paid a very large sum to be with him. Is that a valid argument? I hope so; it's the only one I have. That, and the fact that my feelings have changed drastically during this month with his company. Garrett strides into the conference room with an ulterior motive set deep into his dark blue eyes. Everyone is puzzled; I'm not. I know exactly why he's he
** "This is Sebastian. You know the fucking drill." I sigh irately—one, for calling Sebastian twenty times already only to be led to voicemail, and two, for the voicemail's existence in the first place. I make a mental note to tell him to change it whenever he feels comfortable with talking to me again. "Hey, Sebastian. It's me again. I know for a fact you're ignoring me." I play with a stray piece on my button up shirt and sigh. "I don't blame you. I don't know how many times I'll have to apologize for you to forgive me, but I think we should talk first before that happens. Call me back." I hang up and vow not to call him back. It's already 9:00PM, and I've been blowing up his phone since he left the conferen
**I wake up the next morning and immediately get to work.I've been receiving calls about Sebastian's party since I opened my eyes—E! News, People, TMZ, POPSUGAR, you name it. Apparently, they all want to know the reason for Sebastian's erratic behavior at his house party and why he was so ballistic in the first place. Darcy and I have been commenting the same thing: "We don't have a comment on that at this time." The ironic this is, I'm the reason he was acting that way in the first place. Though, I'm the last person they'd expect to push Sebastian to that point.I sit at my dining room table, sipping coffee even though I'm not in the mood to consume much of anything, and sift through the rest of my emails on my laptop. I'm trying my best to keep 'him' out of my mind, bec
**I come into consciousness shortly after I pass out. Claude has me on the sidewalk when I finally open my eyes. I hope that when I open my eyes, the last hour or so would be just a dream. But sadly, that isn't the case. "Leslie," Claude tells me. "I need you to breathe." This time, I take deeper breaths and keep a rhythm. In and out, in and out. My hands are tightly gripping Claude's forearms as I sit on the curb; I might fall over without his support. "I'm sorry. It just...I just—" "Don't apologize." He says to me, his blue eyes wise and trusting. "You need to get out of here; you've had enough for today."
** This scenario seems too familiar to me. You know—the scenario of me crying on my kitchen floor while trying to calm my nerves with a glass of wine. The familiarity of this is probably what's hardest. It seems like my life is a cycle of reoccurring events. Sebastian's gone, and I'm here surrounded by a broken wine glass. But I'm not the innocent one; I went after him shortly after he left me flustered and deceived against my kitchen sink. There was broken glass involved in that, too. Broken glass, screaming, pushing, hitting. Most of that done by me. I'll take the blame for that. I suppose it's best to explain the events that came after Sebastian left me in my kitchen. I c
the giverthat's what I amI give and give yet receive nothingwhether it's giving my body to my mothergiving my heart to my partnergiving my mind to my jobi give until there is nothing left of mei am left with nothingand those I had given tosee the flaws of my giftssee them as thrift instead of goldis who I am cheap to you?i am leslie king!but what weight does that name carrybesides the weight of my body my mother said I had too much ofthe weight of my heart when he made it heavythe weight of my brain when work became too muchi give and givebut when will I receive?
I, Leslie King, after years of being so blind and so naive to the truth in front of me, have finally seen the light.Not in terms of death or an innovative idea that could help progress society as we know it. No, more of a "spiritual" or "personal" sense of discovery.After a year with my loyal and successful boyfriend, Hudson Maximus Bradford...III,to be exact I have finally caught him in the act to counter argue the loyalty I so liked to believe was part of his nature.And out of all instances to catch him in said act, it had to be at my company fundraiser.And as I sit, lonely, unable to process the events that have occurred just one mere hour ago, everything else seems to make sense. My boyfriend, nowex
The moment my eyes flutter open I realize that I have actually fallen asleep on my kitchen floor. I separate my eyelids and am welcomed to a blur before I see the world sideways. Pedro's head, the dishwasher, bottom cabinet, sunlight pouring in from my kitchen window, and the puddle of the little Moscatto left over spilled all over the floor; all sideways. Pedro is rapidly licking the wine off the floor. In my disoriented, head throbbing, muscle aching state, I don't have the energy to scold him for doing something as ridiculous as licking wine off of the floor. And during this moment I realize I am a horrible and irresponsible canine adoptive mother. I groan as I push myself up, hissing shortly after due to the new pain in my neck and lower back. Pedro sees I'm fully awake and