53.
October 15th, 2020
Every syllable of every word he’d spoken had pierced me right in the chest. His questions, the looks of shock, hurt, disbelief, and anger on his face – they were all rightfully justified.
Nothing he’d said to me had been wrong, but my mind was practicing a defense mechanism of sorts, especially after the studio incident, so for me to fully grasp the importance of my decisions and their consequences was hard.
Next to impossible, in a way.
It wasn’t an excuse, no, but whatever I’d told Gallan came with the territory of self-preservation, and in the mental state I was in, thinking about myself first had been my top priority. It had given me unimaginable pain, but I had to be selfish and do what was right forme.
It wasn’t easy standing before him and telling him the things I’d said to him. It wasn’t easy to ask myself to believe my words, because even as I spoke them, they tasted like vile venom in my mouth.
And most importantly, it wasn’t easy seeing the look of betrayal and utter confusion on his face after I’d told him – albeit indirectly – that I wish him and I had never happened.
It were the ‘what ifs’ that had made things worse for me.
What ifI couldn’t heal fully after this incident?
What ifI wasn’t strong enough to heal in the first place?
What ifpeople saw me differently now, and mocked me for being an easy target?
What ifmy family and friends started treating me or looking at me differently?
Even though Aubrey had been dealt with, there was still a chance that someone else might take her place and try to do the things she’d done to me. That right there was the biggest ‘what if’ I’d been stressing about. It was like a vise grip that wouldn’t loosen itself. Hollywood was a crazy place, and so was everything else associated with it. I wasn’t cut out for it, and it had taken me being bullied and harassed to realize that.
I closed my apartment door and pressed my forehead against it. I focused on the slow buzz of the air conditioner in my living room, and then, squeezing my eyes shut, I let the fallout of my decisions consume me.
Gallan had poured his emotions out to me, and what had I done? I’d stayed mute and wounded him with my silence. I knew for a fact that more than the things I’d told him, it was my silence that had hurt him. I knew it, and still, I did nothing about it.
And what did that say about me?
I really wish I knew.
Did I even deserve him?
I wish I knew the answer to that as well.
