𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮: the fear of love or of becoming emotionally connected with another person.
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Her, the only one who is not afraid of saying what she thinks and not kissing his ass.
Him, the only one that wakes up a part of her that she as ne...
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—I WAKE UP WITH A POUNDING HEADACHE, it felt like I had a second heart beating inside my head, and my phone ringing from somewhere in the room, makes me feel obligated to open my eyes.
I groan as I sit up abruptly, making my head feel dizzy and hurt even more. I take a moment to get accustomed to the headache and my surroundings, fluttering my eyelids open and close when they feel heavy to sleep again and I stand up, looking around for my phone while massaging my temple slowly trying to ease the pain. I leave the room in its dark state not wanting the light to make my headache worse.
I finally find my phone under a pile of music sheets, the phone call ending the moment I find the phone. I look at the time three in the evening. I slept for four hours, that's good enough for me.
My phone starts ringing again and as I see who is calling me my eyes widen. The memories from yesterday came back to me full force. I answer the phone, putting it in speaker mode, not wanting my head to explode if she starts screaming.
"I told you that your big mouth was gonna get you in trouble" This is the first thing my publicist says after I respond to the call and I hear her angry voice through the phone.
"It wasn't my fault that the old man commented on my body when he had a beer belly" I defend myself, my voice raspy from just waking up, and I lay back on my bed, so that I'm staring at the white ceiling, closing my eyes. I really just want to wrap myself in my silky sheets like burrito and never come out.
"Well, it looks like it's your fault in the video" she points out, and I furrow my eyebrows, opening my eyes.
"What video are you talking about?" I ask and I can feel her sigh in irritation through the phone.
"You haven't seen it?" She asks, sounding tired, and I let out a small no to her question. "I'll send you the link. '' She says, ending the call. I huff, rubbing my face in exasperation, thinking that I created a big fucking mess.
I take my phone from its position on the bed when I hear a little ping coming from it. I click on the link my publicist just sent me and I watch the video over and over again, trying to wrap my head around it.
I'm gonna admit that I like saying what I think, and I don't think about things before saying them, I just blurt them out. I kind of don't have a filter, but I don't try to hurt people's feelings. But when you catch me on a bad day, then you get a bitchy me, who doesn't care about feelings and just says what she thinks. The video shows me on a really bad day, which was yesterday. In the video, I'm basically screaming at the paparazzi and ruining my reputation.
It was seven o'clock in the morning and I couldn't sleep so I went on a walk to calm my mind, but my calming walk had to end when I felt questions and flashes get thrown at me. I was ignoring them like always, not answering the questions, and I just continued to drink my coffee, my one bodyguard following me and restricting does cockroaches.
