"All my life, since the moment I was born till now, there hasn't been a day where my name wasn't in a newspaper article or my face wasn't plastered on top of some sleazy magazine. There hasn't been a day when I go somewhere and not get hounded by pa...
I remember when I was 12 and decided that 'dear diary' was too cliché, and I started writing 'hey, Dee' whenever I would write in my diary.
Well, it's been seven years since I've last written, so:
Hey, Dee.
Long time no see.
I noticed that the last entry here was about how busy my life had gotten since I decided to build my own career, my own name and how I had no time to write.
I also noticed that I wrote, 'I'm loving this! People have finally stopped calling me the Baizen-McCartney miracle baby! I AM SOMEONE! The world loves my music! They love me!'
Oh, little Delilah. So naïve.
I'm currently in Dad's lake house. It's helping me forget all that I left in NYC. There's no Wi-Fi here, nor any cell reception. (Mental note: thank Dad for never installing any of those.)
I know what you're thinking. Running away from your problems is not the solution. But I like to ignore my problems until it goes away... eventually.
This time it won't.
I fucked up. I fucked up really, really, really bad and I have lost everything.
I have lost so many friends, I have lost my reputation, I have lost a lot of respect, I have lost myself and most importantly, I lost my little baby.
I don't know how it happened. Mark was a distraction from the mess in my head. The voices were getting louder, and I-
OK, so I've decided last night that I'm only gonna be honest from now onwards.
I don't know how to be alone.
I don't know how to be independent.
I don't know how to be myself.
I guess this is one of the cons of being born into wealth. But that is no excuse for what I did.
Mark was a distraction, and he was fun. It was good in the beginning. But then he started talking about commitments and moving in and I just wasn't ready for all that. I can't do that. Mark, he didn't even know me.
Then I found out that I was pregnant.
I was so, so, so scared. I've never wanted to have a baby, at least not this early. I'm only 26. I can't even take care of myself and now I was supposed to take care of another person? Another person who will grow inside me, come out and know only me? Someone who will have no one other than me? Someone who will need me to learn how to live. Someone who is gonna depend on me, completely.
I was so fucking scared and all I could think of was what if I accidentally drop my baby? What if I forget to feed them? What if I fuck up and my baby had to pay for my mistake with their life?
I have never felt that scared. All I could think of was that I was not ready. Not ready to be a mother. As I said, I can't even be alone. I couldn't, I just couldn't go through with the pregnancy.
All that stress was killing me, and I started working more and one night, after a show, I dropped off the stage. Thankfully, no fans nor paps noticed. My manager, Afreen, took me to the hospital. They said that the stress on top of the pregnancy was going to harm my baby, and soon it will harm me.
They also informed me that I was in no shape to go through a pregnancy.
Here's something not many people know since I'm feeling honest today: I have bulimia.
The doctors said that highly increased my chances of miscarriage.
After that, I just couldn't. I couldn't keep my baby. Like I said, I was so scared. I have never been that scared before in my life. I was fucking balling my eyes out in that emergency room before going through with the operation, and Afreen told me a million times that it was OK, it was my decision but I still felt so fucking guilty.
So, after the operation, I called Mark. He obviously recorded that conversation and the fact (among multiple other facts) that he edited out was that: I was literally sobbing, telling him how guilty and scared I was. How much I hated myself.
That fucking asshole.
I still haven't gotten over anything. There's just so much pent up sadness, anger, anxiety in me, and I don't know how to deal with it.
I'd love to write more because this feels really good and I'd like to talk a little more about my issues, but Dad is BANGING on my door. I don't know why.
Till next time.
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a/n: some cute delris (??) for y'all next chapter!! <33 or chrelilah? idk y'all decide <3
