Sickened

There's a scene in Initial D, the movie, when Jay Chou's character discovers some very unpleasant truths about the girl he likes, and in that moment, he runs away and speeds off in his car, a mixture of rage, betrayal, disappointment and an edge of disbelief. I now know how he feels.

For the past few months, I dedicated my life to this non-paying project, working on passion alone and the belief in Andrew's vision that this project will be successful. For months, I fought with my parents, who couldn't understand why I wasn't looking for a good stable job, why I had to run off for shoot on Lunar New Year Eve and why I've been experiencing bouts of depression. All that based on that faith. And now that faith has been betrayed.

Audi came along with me to check on Andrew today. He had, again, gone MIA, refusing to answer his calls or emails. Perhaps Audi suspected something might happen, maybe he was in the know all along. He just wanted to come along and film the whole sordid thing.

We found Andrew in a complete mess. The editing suite was disgusting, dark and damp like a cave of rotting things. He didn't look much better. Clearly he wasn't well; he seemed feverish and a little delirious. Or perhaps that was just the alcohol.

In short, we had a big fight. I ran out, my way blurry with tears, and the anguish, the betrayal, the disbelief that my friend of so very many years just uses women like tools and I'm just one of them, literally made my chest ache.

All that time I worked so hard on this project, getting permission, convincing sponsors, managing logistics, and he's just busy chasing tail! What's more, it doesn't even look like he did ANYTHING more to the documentary.

Never before have I felt more alone being the only girl in the group. There's no one I can talk to about this. The guys just don't understand, and I'm sure they're probably high-fiving one another about what a stud Andrew is and what an overreacting psycho prude I am. Well, screw that. I'm out.