Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“Okay, are you sure that’s all that’s going to be needed?” Even my acting skills failed me now. I guess it was hard to feign indifference when your very life was on the line, and there was no guarantee, no matter what he said, that things would go as smoothly as he said.
“For now, we’re pretty sure. Don’t panic; like I said, things aren’t as bad as they were the first time, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Okay, doc, I’ll take your word for it. Not that I have any other choice.” See, no panic.
Gah, the story of my life. Just when I was getting back into the swing of things, the stupid sickness had to come back and knock me down a peg. I guess my karma is still not good, though I wish like heck I knew why that was. I’ve always lived by the mantra, ‘kill them with kindness,’ but no one else seems to have got the memo.
I left the doctor’s office after having my prescription filled, already feeling down, and then I was bombarded by the paparazzi who I thought I’d evaded on the way here. “Elena, what do you have to say about the latest TikTok post?” What post? Doesn’t everyone know by now that I don’t use social media?
Now I’m going to be worrying about that stupid shit for the rest of the day before I inevitably give in and look, which will most likely send me spiraling into hell again. I didn’t know the half of it.
That was day one, the beginning of the new smear campaign that someone had designed to either send me over the edge or cause me to end myself. For months, I had been on the mend; my illness had been under control or in remission, and my mental health was the best it had been in quite some time.
I was living my best life, finally going out on the town again, which was fine as long as I steered clear of all the places I used to like. I’d even started traveling again with my friends mostly and sometimes alone when I needed to decompress. I was starting to believe that my life wasn’t always going to be the shit show it had become the last few years.
I still had a moratorium on all things social media, which goes a long way toward keeping my sanity in check. Though it was hard to avoid all the rhetoric while out and about, my friends have been going out of their way to shield me from the worst of it. So I was pretty much covered.
One amazing thing about the last few months was being contacted by my ex-mother-in-law; well, I’m not sure I can call her that since Ryder and I were never married. But she was like a mother to me for almost ten years of my life, and that’s just the way I’d always seen her.
It hadn’t been the easiest thing hearing from her in the beginning, but somehow, we’d navigated those first few conversations until it became easier, and now our biweekly talks were something I looked forward to.
That was my personal life, and then there were all the offers that kept pouring in since my latest album had been such a hit. Who am I kidding? It was the best damn thing I’d ever produced, and I was still riding the high from its success.
The documentary was received much better than I expected. Instead of the ridicule and pity I expected, or even the shunning, I found great solace in the many shared stories from people who were suffering in the dark, most of the people I would never have expected.
It seemed the world had gone and changed in the years since I’d been keeping myself hidden, and people were more willing to share their truth. Though I still don’t exactly trust this town, it was more so the people on the outside, everyday people with normal lives who suffered some sort of mental illness in silence because of the stigmas.
I was starting to believe that whatever karmic misery had been unleashed on me was finally coming to an end. But as if toying with me, life had slapped me back with another great big fuck you, first with the return of cancer that was hellbent on taking my life and then on the same day, as if someone really was convinced that I was strong enough to handle it all, the beginning of another social media attack.
Now it had been weeks of nonstop lies and rumors and anything and everything to bring me down. This time I found it harder to look away, and so I took all of that filth into me to digest, only to find it hard to purge it out again. It just sits inside of me like a dead weight that I now have to carry with all my other burdens.