twenty-five

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Jai

June 25th:

*Ayla, I'm dying to hear your voice.

She has denied four of my calls this week. I know she doesn't want to talk to me on the phone, but it's doing nothing but driving me out of my fucking mind.

What you need is to sleep. Keep taking that Ambien for the next month. Then you can come home and hear my voice. I love you. Goodnight.

It took all of my power to not throw my phone across the room. Again. Last week when she hung up on me and told me that she didn't want to talk anymore, that's exactly what I did. I instantly threw it, full force, into the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces and I didn't replace it for probably two hours. I was so pissed at myself, pissed at Ayla, pissed at everything.

The problem is I can't seem to stop being a dick. I say something that my fucking filter should have caught, then the next thing I know she's giving me a smart-ass answer in return. It became no use with us. We'd start a normal, nice conversation then I would say something stupid and soon the whole thing out of control. I can't seem to stop.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I've sent her some choice emails where I snapped. I feel like I just need to sever communication with her all together. That is probably the best option. Fuck.

No the best option would to be at home - our new home - with her, figuring the last details about the wedding out and actually being in a better mood. Why can't it be the end of July? Fuck!

This Ambien hit me a lot harder than I thought. I barely remember my last thoughts before my head blasted my pillow.

* * *

June 28th:

I woke up early this morning to finish my last bit of filming. Luckily that only took about five hours. I was supposed to be done by 2:30 and was only a few minutes over that. I had the entire afternoon to do nothing but chill out and pack my shit before I have to be at the airport at the crack of dawn.

Last night was not a good night. As if my temper and heartburn couldn't get any worse, I got a wonderful message from my sister's boyfriend saying that he personally knew this new neighbor of ours. That did a whole lot of good in my fucking brain.

I proceeded to send him a message where I did a nice, loud talk-to-text in front of my PA. Apparently I yelled 'So I should be okay with the fact that you personally know the guy that wants to fuck my wife?' Geri had to politely point out in the hotel lobby that I not only screamed 'fuck' but also 'my wife'. I didn't even realize that I made that mistake. It just slid out of my mouth. And guess what happened?

I panicked. Like an asshole, I ended up texting Ayla some bullshit about what Clare's boyfriend told me. Without even knowing what he looks like, I got all these images of me coming home and her not giving a shit about me anymore because this guy doesn't have a job that requires him to be gone for months at a time.

Her only response to that was 'You're out of your fucking mind.' So naturally that drove me more insane where I said a bunch of other shit I didn't think through. That I didn't mean. She never responded to me once through my absurd rant. And I don't blame her. Much like the tell-all email to my mum two weeks ago, I started talking about all kinds of dumb crap. Why is talk-to-text a fucking option to someone who is on their last fucking nerve? Somewhere in the messages I sent her was a horrible line that I tried my fucking hardest to take back.

'What's the point of getting married?'

When I realized what I'd said, it was too late. It was sent. Stupidest thing I've ever done. I tried to explain myself; To recover those words with a mountain of apologies. No use. I almost ripped my fucking hair out thinking about how I'd fucked up. So instead I took an Ambien and single shooters of Jack Daniels.

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