You Bastard
Thanks for stalking me and reading my journal.
Thanks for making me laugh.
Thanks for getting me to question things.
Thanks for opening me in a way I haven't been since Ernie.
Thanks for pissing me off.
Thanks for making me lose half my hair.
Thanks for your awesome meals.
Thanks for well, everything.
Anyways.
Last weekend started just like every other lately. It was Friday night and I downed a few Madrisses, made a go cup of Belvedere and Cranberry, and left to go party. And party I did. Thousands of dollars of cocaine, 8inch heels, Lamborghinis and SLS AMGs.. That's how we roll. I was with my partner in crime. I had planned two trips to NYC and Vegas. We totally exploited guys for money at Harrahs.
Dinner at Restaurant R'evolution with 3 shots of vodka to guess the brand. Dom pouring freely. You know the deal.
Then suddenly on Friday night I caught this feeling of malaise. I looked down at my Givenchy heels, the $50k pearls that adorned my neck, the huge diamonds in my ears.. And I felt sick.
In the pursuit of material happiness, I cheapened what really matters. My heart.
I truly loved Ernie. Not for his money. Not for our lifestyle. Not for my ridiculous ring. Not for our mansion or the cars or the trips or anything.
I loved cooking him dinner. I loved talking business. I loved our Picadilly takeouts. I loved how he called me bunny. I loved the way he looked at me. I loved when we'd stop for ice cream.
I loved the small things.
Who have I become in the last year? I know I am not in love with him anymore. I know I don't need him financially. I just don't know myself.
I spent the week cooking dinners for myself, doing work, not wearing makeup or heels. Watching history documentaries. Talking to my family. Pampering my Jax.
Not hanging with Alisha. Not drinking.
Tonight I feel happy despite hurting my left eye and having to cancel Miami.
I feel the best I have in the last year.. I miss him at the oddest times.. But I turn around and I'm okay again.
I'll live.
Love, B*
Thanks for making me laugh.
Thanks for getting me to question things.
Thanks for opening me in a way I haven't been since Ernie.
Thanks for pissing me off.
Thanks for making me lose half my hair.
Thanks for your awesome meals.
Thanks for well, everything.
Anyways.
Last weekend started just like every other lately. It was Friday night and I downed a few Madrisses, made a go cup of Belvedere and Cranberry, and left to go party. And party I did. Thousands of dollars of cocaine, 8inch heels, Lamborghinis and SLS AMGs.. That's how we roll. I was with my partner in crime. I had planned two trips to NYC and Vegas. We totally exploited guys for money at Harrahs.
Dinner at Restaurant R'evolution with 3 shots of vodka to guess the brand. Dom pouring freely. You know the deal.
Then suddenly on Friday night I caught this feeling of malaise. I looked down at my Givenchy heels, the $50k pearls that adorned my neck, the huge diamonds in my ears.. And I felt sick.
In the pursuit of material happiness, I cheapened what really matters. My heart.
I truly loved Ernie. Not for his money. Not for our lifestyle. Not for my ridiculous ring. Not for our mansion or the cars or the trips or anything.
I loved cooking him dinner. I loved talking business. I loved our Picadilly takeouts. I loved how he called me bunny. I loved the way he looked at me. I loved when we'd stop for ice cream.
I loved the small things.
Who have I become in the last year? I know I am not in love with him anymore. I know I don't need him financially. I just don't know myself.
I spent the week cooking dinners for myself, doing work, not wearing makeup or heels. Watching history documentaries. Talking to my family. Pampering my Jax.
Not hanging with Alisha. Not drinking.
Tonight I feel happy despite hurting my left eye and having to cancel Miami.
I feel the best I have in the last year.. I miss him at the oddest times.. But I turn around and I'm okay again.
I'll live.
Love, B*