I can't count how many times I've told myself this. It always ends in heartbreak. So I thought this time around I'd play it different. I refused to read any of his books. I didn't go see the movie just made based on one of them. He's just a normal, cool guy. One with thousands of teenagers who worship him, but whatever. We've been casually dating for about a month now but something happened over the last few times we were together and I fell for him. And I thought maybe he was feeling the same.
But I finally made the mistake of reading one of his books, cover to cover. And he is a fucking genius. It made me cry, multiple times. And I told him that.
And now he isn't returning any of my messages.
I'm a fucking idiot. Because I'm lying to myself. The real reason he probably isn't returning any of my messages is because he discovered that I stole some of the hydrocodone he needs for his back out of his medicine cabinet the other morning. It was pure instinct, everything I'd learned disappeared and my mind went totally blank while I was opening the bottle.
This is never going to end, is it.
I have a meeting with my publisher's lawyers in an hour and I'm a sobbing fucking mess and I don't know how to pull it together in time.
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