I'm Not Leaving // lrh

18 || confidential

brooklyn, new york
7:00pm

A

I gathered my things and stood up off my seat on the train back home. There was still a few more stops to go before mine, but the mother of two toddlers needed the space infinitely more than I did.

It wasn't a long wait, it's one of those rare New York early summer days where the train schedule isn't ridiculously backed up.

I ignored the constant vibration of my phone in my bag, it's been a long day and I'm sure whatever or whoever it is can wait. And even if it can't, it'll have to. My hands are full.

I sipped my now melted iced coffee as I walked up the steps of my building, I was saving it this whole commute home since I'm gonna need to caffeine to tackle the mess that is my apartment. I smiled at the mail man who held the door open for me.

It's been two weeks since I got home from Paris and my apartment's been a mess ever since.

My suitcase was still only half unpacked in the corner of my bedroom. I keep knocking into it whenever I try to untuck my chair from the desk, I trip over it in the middle of the night in the night.

I totally started to unpack and put things aside for the dry cleaner. I just never finished. My dishes have been in a pile in my sink for who knows how long, the trash has yet to be taken out, and the list goes on and on.

These last few weeks have been hard to say the absolute least. It was a drastic change from expensive champagne, parties, train trips to London, fancy macaroons and a magically clean hotel room a few weeks ago. And if I don't clean my shit up now I probably never will.

I have to keep asking myself: would happy, radiant, glamorous, calm Paris Amara allow this mess?

Absolutely not.

And I won't pretend to be oblivious to the reason why I've gotten slightly off track.

My name's been in the media a few times and it brought back such shitty memories.

Sure I was getting slightly praised online now. I was finally talked about for my own things. Fashion, clothes, my job. Everything under the sun that has nothing to do with A Man.

But even still, there were a few people saying I'm only where I am because of my famous ex-boyfriends. Mainly the one that's more famous than the other.

And of course, my famous dad. I can't help but look at comments on the Instagram posts of me, simply discussing the known details of my outfits for fashion week. It's like picking at a scab that hasn't fully healed. Poking at a bruise. I have to look. I have to know. 

I just hope it all goes away sooner rather than later, nice things are being said about my clothes and style but the way the media works, soon enough it'll all change. At least it's good hype for our own brands coming collection next season.

I drop the record player's needle on my favorite Carly Simon record.

I tackled the dishes first, it's always been a pet peeve of mine to have more than a fork or two in here at a time I don't even know how I managed to let it get this bad.

Oh yeah. The mini panic attack at the grocery store the week I got home from Paris.

I was at checkout, only picking up a few essentials like almond milk and tortilla chips. That's when I saw it.

Luke Hemmings new girlfriend! Finally moved on? Insider tells us she's healing his broken heart!

Sierra and Luke were on the cover, ducking out of a fancy restaurant in L.A. The one celebrities and celebrities hangers on are always getting caught at. I knew it right away, Sierra called the paparazzi, she wanted to be seen.