Me: Wtf. Why didn’t u tell me this shit was this bad? I’m on set.

Mei: Calm down, bitch. Ur not dying. It’s just a ruptured septum.

Me: I got blood all over my look. Designer is pissed.

Not to mention a stranger saw me with blood gushing down my face while he was fucking me. But I don’t tell her that part. I don’t want to bring up my tryst with Carter. I don’t even want to think about him. I can still hear his words in my head, about slowing down. About what happened to his sister.

When my mom died, it didn’t just break my heart, it splintered me from the core. I’m no longer the same person. I don’t see things the same; I don’t feel things the same. At first, it was like everything in me went numb. I couldn’t feel anything for so long. No sadness. No guilt. No pain. Nothing.

Sometimes you just need to remember what it’s like to feel something real, even if it hurts. Even if it makes you ache so much you want to end things. Like my mom ended things. That’s when it started. That’s when I got high for the first time. It was like flying, soaring through the air and never looking down. Never stopping to doubt, question, think.

And then when I started to feel again, it was all too much. The anger. The pain. The nightmares. I realized it was better to not feel. I started getting so high, I’d lose all the feeling in my entire body. It was better than this, this horrible bottomless feeling.

I can’t stop. I won’t. I wish I had a couple of lines right now.

My phone buzzes.

Mei: Just lay off for three days. U should be good.

I blow out air as my lip liner and highlighter are touched up simultaneously. Three days. She might as well have said three years.

I glance into the hand mirror I used earlier to help the makeup artist with my brows. There’s no trace of blood on my face anymore, but I can still smell it. Taste it.

My phone buzzes again. I shift my gaze from my reflection to my screen.

Mei: Need me to come over later?

I text her back: Not sure how long the shoot will go. I head to the bathroom, and then shoot off another message. Oh, did I tell you I have lunch with my father tomorrow? He supposedly has good news.

Mei: What do you think it’s about?

Me: No idea. Didn’t decide if I’m going yet.

I shouldn’t even go to this bullshit lunch. I don’t need this right now. I doubt his “good news” will be good for anyone other than himself.