Jun. 5th, 2017
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Jun. 5th, 2017 01:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
artsdesireI have a brother who can't stop crying, a cousin who can't stop swearing in Italian, and a fiance who can't stop vomiting. Living the high life, bitches.
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muserevival | 146.3. Private Journal
Jun. 5th, 2017 09:04 pmasskickingblahniksGoing Back @ muserevival
It took a long time for me to believe that going to therapy wasn't evidence of how much of a failure I was. Failure as sister, a wife, a mother, a human. I thought I hated myself when I gave up my baby for adopted all those years ago, but this was worse. I didn't understand why I kept fucking up and hurting the people I love more than life itself. There is no life without any of them. So, why was I such a coward and ran away?
( Because running was easy. Running, I could control. Running wasn't killing my brother with cancer, killing my child to suicide, crippling my husband with an illness I couldn't spell, let alone understand... )
muserevivalIt took a long time for me to believe that going to therapy wasn't evidence of how much of a failure I was. Failure as sister, a wife, a mother, a human. I thought I hated myself when I gave up my baby for adopted all those years ago, but this was worse. I didn't understand why I kept fucking up and hurting the people I love more than life itself. There is no life without any of them. So, why was I such a coward and ran away?
( Because running was easy. Running, I could control. Running wasn't killing my brother with cancer, killing my child to suicide, crippling my husband with an illness I couldn't spell, let alone understand... )
"Sex ain't better than love."
Jun. 5th, 2017 10:11 pmasskickingblahniksWho: Gen Hart and Mark Campbell
What: Reunion
Where: Mark's place, Upper East Side
When: Saturday night
Gen had already arranged for a chauffeur to pick her up from the airport. One of the benefits of being wealthy was you didn't have to wait around for service. She hated cabs. She didn't trust them, not just with her safety but with getting her where she needed to be promptly. Not to mention the fact they usually reeked of BO or stale cigarette smoke. As soon as she touched down, she tried to call Paris but Mikey picked up and told her Paris had a bad day and was sleeping, so he didn't want to wake him up. No way would she expect him to either. Chemo was a really terrible ordeal. Paris was a shadow of his former self. At least, he had been when she left for France. He could be worse now. She hated to think about it. She asked Mikey to let her know when Paris was up to visitors, and promised to come by as soon as he was.
Her first destination had to be her former home. The best home she ever had. The one she had to leave because her marriage broke down. The divorce was all final now. When she failed to get her shit together in London, Mark completely pulled the plug. So had Justin. He had even removed her as a friend from Facebook, but apparently not blocked her. She had still been able to see his comments to other people. Sasha was gone too, but then, Gen hadn't really known her son's boyfriend. That was fucked up in itself. It shouldn't be like that. Was it too late to fix it?
When she had arrived at Mark's place, she had been fully intending to beg with him to sit down and talk with her. No matter how hard it was to get this done, she was going to do it. She was scared to see him, though. She had only discovered a few days before he, too, had taken her off Facebook so she couldn't stalk him anymore to try to keep up with what was going on. It hurt. It hurt just as much as realising Justin had done it. But like everything else lately, she initially buried her head in the sand and made with her workaholic routine to try to drown out the pain.
Mark was barely mobile. He had come to answer the door to her using one of those rollator frames and even then, he had gone back to the sofa and all-but collapsed onto it, like his legs weren't holding him up well anymore. There was a wheelchair there. Mark had lost weight too, and he looked exhausted. But the lights had been dimmed right down, hopefully just the lighting? She hadn't been convinced. She certainly hadn't expected to happen what happened next. No one else was home. What had intended to be a welcoming cheek-kiss had turned into a full-on snog... and then more. She hadn't quite caught up with how they went from that to her riding his lap there on the sofa, but apparently not every part of his body was incapacitated by the illness.
When it was done, she had gone to the bathroom, where she stared at herself in the mirror. The messy hair, the smudged lipstick, the hickies all over her neck and chest. Shit, that hadn't been meant to happen, but it had. Her couture clothing was strewn somewhere behind the sofa, so she had helped herself to a shirt from his closet and a pair of his sweats. She had asked the driver to deliver her bags back to the doorman at her apartment block. She came back through with Mark's favourite AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of sweats for him. "Need a hand? Not that I would be opposed to talking to you starkers," she said, trying to keep it light but her voice was shaking. She was expecting to be thrown out like a common whore. Maybe that's all she was at the end of the day... a hooker with a six-digit bank account. "Sorry, I know that wasn't exactly the conventional way to reunite after a divorce. I really did plan to just come and talk. Where's, um... where's the kiddo? I was kind of hoping he might be here too." It was after the time Justin would have arrived back from work, but she knew there wouldn't have been no fucking on the sofa if anyone else had been home.
What: Reunion
Where: Mark's place, Upper East Side
When: Saturday night
Gen had already arranged for a chauffeur to pick her up from the airport. One of the benefits of being wealthy was you didn't have to wait around for service. She hated cabs. She didn't trust them, not just with her safety but with getting her where she needed to be promptly. Not to mention the fact they usually reeked of BO or stale cigarette smoke. As soon as she touched down, she tried to call Paris but Mikey picked up and told her Paris had a bad day and was sleeping, so he didn't want to wake him up. No way would she expect him to either. Chemo was a really terrible ordeal. Paris was a shadow of his former self. At least, he had been when she left for France. He could be worse now. She hated to think about it. She asked Mikey to let her know when Paris was up to visitors, and promised to come by as soon as he was.
Her first destination had to be her former home. The best home she ever had. The one she had to leave because her marriage broke down. The divorce was all final now. When she failed to get her shit together in London, Mark completely pulled the plug. So had Justin. He had even removed her as a friend from Facebook, but apparently not blocked her. She had still been able to see his comments to other people. Sasha was gone too, but then, Gen hadn't really known her son's boyfriend. That was fucked up in itself. It shouldn't be like that. Was it too late to fix it?
When she had arrived at Mark's place, she had been fully intending to beg with him to sit down and talk with her. No matter how hard it was to get this done, she was going to do it. She was scared to see him, though. She had only discovered a few days before he, too, had taken her off Facebook so she couldn't stalk him anymore to try to keep up with what was going on. It hurt. It hurt just as much as realising Justin had done it. But like everything else lately, she initially buried her head in the sand and made with her workaholic routine to try to drown out the pain.
Mark was barely mobile. He had come to answer the door to her using one of those rollator frames and even then, he had gone back to the sofa and all-but collapsed onto it, like his legs weren't holding him up well anymore. There was a wheelchair there. Mark had lost weight too, and he looked exhausted. But the lights had been dimmed right down, hopefully just the lighting? She hadn't been convinced. She certainly hadn't expected to happen what happened next. No one else was home. What had intended to be a welcoming cheek-kiss had turned into a full-on snog... and then more. She hadn't quite caught up with how they went from that to her riding his lap there on the sofa, but apparently not every part of his body was incapacitated by the illness.
When it was done, she had gone to the bathroom, where she stared at herself in the mirror. The messy hair, the smudged lipstick, the hickies all over her neck and chest. Shit, that hadn't been meant to happen, but it had. Her couture clothing was strewn somewhere behind the sofa, so she had helped herself to a shirt from his closet and a pair of his sweats. She had asked the driver to deliver her bags back to the doorman at her apartment block. She came back through with Mark's favourite AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of sweats for him. "Need a hand? Not that I would be opposed to talking to you starkers," she said, trying to keep it light but her voice was shaking. She was expecting to be thrown out like a common whore. Maybe that's all she was at the end of the day... a hooker with a six-digit bank account. "Sorry, I know that wasn't exactly the conventional way to reunite after a divorce. I really did plan to just come and talk. Where's, um... where's the kiddo? I was kind of hoping he might be here too." It was after the time Justin would have arrived back from work, but she knew there wouldn't have been no fucking on the sofa if anyone else had been home.