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Story Title: The lonely hearted
Oh, it had been marvelous at first, as I relished the perks that came with being the companion of a brilliant, up-and-coming author, who already had one bestseller to his credit, and was expected to produce many more. We were invited to more parties than I could count, and he would sometimes take me along to the exotic locales where he derived inspiration for his works. We could be walking down some obscure street in a quaint southern town, and strangers would walk up to us and ask if he was really THE Brendon Allister, author of "They Came with a Purpose" and others. It rocked!
The drinking hadn't manifested itself yet in all its sordid colors, nor the unquenchable ego that made me feel small and useless by comparison. I wrote articles for a local newspaper's op-ed column, and could have benefitted from Bren's
Ellie would laugh her socks off if she could hear these thoughts. Ask her about Bren and she could reel off a dozen stories of drunken embarrassment, missed dates, disappointments and silences which were uncomfortable for me, but of which he was oblivious as he dozed behind his dark glasses.
Grrrr! The fury rises up in me again. Why do I do this? Every time I start to calm down my thoughts fall back into a pattern of all the times I should have asserted myself, all the times I should have called an end to his casual treatment of me. Why did I allow myself to be put through it all, only to be cast aside? Why am I unable to function as a complete, individual person? Why can't I stop shackling myself to unsuitable other halves? Oh I'm sick of myself today.
Okay it's time to get some perspective, this is unhealthy and my head space is starting to turn toxic. Ellie - I need to call her.