| COMPLETE | THE SEQUEL 'Hate Me Tomorrow' IS OUT NOW | no translations |
"Tell me about when you do hate me." He insisted.
Our chests were inches apart and his nose was very close to mine. I was looking up at him as he still stood towering over me...
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Well...I'm a fucking idiot.
It's been three hours since Juliet locked herself in the guest bedroom.
My mum and Gemma heard the yelling, I told them we just had an argument and Juliet went to take a nap until she was ready to talk again.
I didn't like lying like that to them but it wasn't my place to tell them about what was really happening. Of course the argument part wasn't a lot but... panic disorders are personal and since I wasn't the one having a panic attack right now, it wasn't my right to talk about it.
They had left for dinner about 30 minutes ago and after I explained to them what was going on I sat with my back against the guest bedroom door.
I'd been here the whole time, waiting for her to come out.
If she came out calm and wanted to kiss me, if she came out screaming and hitting me, if she came out tired and drained...I didn't even care, I just wanted to look at her again.
I felt so shitty.
I was horrible to her and I don't even know why my brain jumped to being so jealous and upset. I've been really over thinking since we left Japan and it just got to me today.
I don't know why I got so insecure, Juliet proves to me every moment she can that loves me. She does everything right and couldn't be more perfect...
My insecurities are obviously irrational and it got me in some big fucking trouble because I couldn't compose myself.
Now I'm even more miserable than I was three hours ago. I was angry, pissed off, irrationally upset and now I'm miserably sad and regretful. I wish I could take back everything I said.
I realized how much I fucked up when I saw how pale she'd gotten. She was shaking and I knew she was starting to have a panic attack, at that moment my sole focus was on helping her.
I practically begged her to let me hug her because I knew that helped. She'd told me a few times before that being held or hugged during her panic attacks helped her and kept it from getting too bad.
I wish she would've let me hold her, I knew I could've helped. Just like I did on the couch the other night, I just wanted to make it better.
But she didn't want me.
So I've been sitting in the hallway, leant against the door. Not to mention I'd been crying the whole time and I had a half empty bottle of whiskey next to me.
