It's been a rough few days. I don't know why everything is hitting me so hard this year, but everything is. Actually, I have an idea why. Everyone knows so much more of the story now, so I can't pretend everything is okay. They already know about the pain and the loss, so there's nothing to hide. And in reality, the hiding probably helped me avoid the sadness. I'm doing what I can to snap out of the funk, but not much is working. I've had a difficult time finding something to make me smile, or maybe even laugh. As you can imagine, that scenario is absolutely unacceptable to my best friend. We spent the day together today, and it was the first time in so long. And it was fun.
If you don't know who my best friend is, allow me to, first of all, say, "WHAT?! You haven't read my book?!?" And then, once you apologize and download it on your Kindle so that you can begin reading right away, I will introduce you.
The fact is, we were George and Abby long before we were Sexiest Man Alive/Oscar winner/boyfriend-to-supermodels-everywhere George Clooney and Olympic gold medalist/Oscar winner/bestselling author Abigail Phelps. We went to prom together. He slept on my couch and I slept on his before either of us could afford homes with more than one bedroom. He was my (horrible!) Lamaze coach. I was with him when he received divorce papers and he was with me when I found out John was gone. I love him despite the fact that I have many pictures of him in which he looks much worse than in the one above, and he loves me despite the fact that I continually use those pictures of him as blackmail to get anything and everything that I want.
He's just George. And with him, I can just be Abby. And even when I don't like being Abby, he wouldn't want me to be anyone else.