Me Too

1

Saturday morning arrived bright and early over the San Fernando hills behind my apartment. Maybe with such a beautiful introduction to the morning, it will be a good day. Wouldn't that be lovely?

My roommate, Sofia, left me for the weekend, so I decided I'd finally drag myself out of bed and make some breakfast for myself while I have some time to kill at home. Today is just one of those days. When I've got nothing to keep me busy, I fall into a slump.

My job has been quiet since September began, so I have been granted a single moment of peace, and I have tried to enjoy it, but each passing day it gets harder and harder to ignore my relentless thoughts that fill the silence. I don't know if it is a good thing to have so much time off, but it is nice not having to be overloaded sun up to sun down, running around to make other people happy.

To whoever said being a working adult was easy, they certainly don't know all of the sacrificed time and energy and sanity that goes into day to day living.

It doesnt help that I am under close observation. Every move I make is documented somewhere- it is hard to have a personal life and a public image. I fortunately have done well to keep the best of both worlds. I have a prospering relationship and a career that I am passionate about, and neither interfere with the other.

Usually.

Interviews for the movie franchise I've been involved with have become less than chaotic three months after the release of the second film, so I am off camera for a while. I am taking in the breath of fresh air. We start filming for the third one this coming summer, and the snowball will keep rolling, whether we- our team and I- are ready or not.

I love what I do. But it is a lot to handle. Working in Hollywood is not a vacation, but I try my best to stay busy on purpose. Stepping out of my own life into another persona of myself for a majority of my day helps me ignore a lot of things in my life. Working too much is not healthy for my mental health, and not working almost feels as treacherous.

I am glad that I am not doing it alone.

Spending this weekend with the love of my life was the plan, but, at the very last minute, her music career took her out of town. She is like super woman, I swear. She balances life so well, between the work we share and then the extra mile she goes, she handles it all so well; I've never hard her complain. I admire her persistence and her motivation to go after anything she wants. She throws lemons back at life.

Just thinking of her inspires me to get out of bed this morning. She would never just lay idle, so I won't either. I will myself not to text her as my breakfast churns in a blender. I have to trust that I will see her when she gets home. Trust.

She is one if the only people I can be honest with, and that dependency for a transparent person in my life is what makes it so hard to be alone. I can't be honest with myself, but to my fullest extent, I'm honest with her, and I trust that she is honest with me. I have a lot of faith that she loves me, and she means it when she says she does.

I grabbed a book. The twisting in my stomach, the screams in my mind stole me from reality and I was found engrossed in thought, staring at the words on the first page. It is as if the repeated scenes flashing before my eyes will never go away. I summoned these thoughts.

The torment becomes real.

I shot my eyes to the front door behind me like a bullet. The outside handle is being tugged on relentlessly, ruthlessly. I hesitantly put my bare feet on the dark hardwood floor, about to go open it when paranoia consumes me. I choke on the acidic burn of fear, nearly convulsing. My racing, pounding heart overheats me and white spots cloud my vision. Still, the door shook with effort.