Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Everyone who surrounded me probably didn’t even notice the seclusion leaking from my spirit. They’d never came close enough to exam the real me. They only knew the character I’d presented myself as. To them I was Aiden Walters, Hollywood’s it boy. The happy-go-lucky people-person who thrived in crowded rooms. Yet my true self was the complete opposite.
I was Aiden Walters, the lonely boy. The boy who’d become too great at covering up his panic attacks on red carpets. The boy who’d become a chameleon based on whoever he was interacting with. People thought they liked me because when they talked, I listened without inserting my thoughts and opinions. I laughed when they laughed. I grimaced when they did, too. It would amaze you how many people wanted someone to simply listen to them and not give them feedback.
People liked me because they didn’t know me. If they knew me, they’d probably be turned off by the level of sadness inside my soul. Then again, who was I to be sad? I had fame, money, and success. How dare I even question my mental health when I’d been given so many blessings. At least that was how my father made me feel on the subject.
“You’re living everyone’s dream. You’re living my dream. Be grateful,” he’d say.
It turned out, living everyone else’s dreams didn’t make your own come true. It made you an overlooked side character in their life’s story.
My mind was spinning as my stomach rumbled like thunder.
I’d made it to where so many people wished to be.
I was sitting in the front row at the Oscars.
Cue the excitement.
It was hot in that room. It also smelled like overpriced perfumes and uptight egos. A big part of me didn’t feel as if I belonged in that room. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to be invited. They said, “it’s an honor to be nominated.” Blah, blah, blah.
That summed up exactly how I felt—blah, blah, blah.
Every inch of my body dripped in perspiration.
My stomach rumbled like an old car engine trying to get a jump start.
The person sitting to my left glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow from the wannabe tune-up.
“Bubbly guts,” I murmured, patting my stomach. Right as I gave it a pat-pat, I burped on accident.
For the love of…
My body was shutting down on me as my old-school panics started to resurface.
Nerves.
You have to control your nerves, Aiden.
My parents were upset I didn’t bring one of them as my plus-one. Mostly Dad was upset. Mom was worried. She knew back then I said if I’d ever made it to the Oscars, my plus-one would be Hailee because Mom was my plus-one at the Emmys.
Hailee.
Shit. My fucking nerves.
I smiled brightly and focused my attention on the stage in front of me. Rob Gregory was presenting. He didn’t look nearly as nervous as I’d felt, but then again, Rob had attended these events for over sixty-some years. He was one of the best actors in the industry. Hollywood royalty, if I may say. The guy was pushing mid-eighties but didn’t look a day over sixty. He must’ve had solid genetics. Or an extremely talented personal trainer and cosmetic surgeon.
My stomach howled once more.
Rob held an envelope tight in his hand and said, “And the Oscar for best actor in a leading role goes to…”
Blah, blah, blah…
“Aiden Walters.”
Wait, what?
The crowd burst into a roaring celebration.
Aiden Walters.
That’s me.
I did it.
At the age of twenty-two years old, I’d won my first Academy award.
I was going to vomit.
No, wait. I was going to walk on stage. Correction, I was walking on stage. Somehow, my feet managed to take one step after another as my brain became dazed and confused about what was happening. I felt light-headed as I made my way toward Rob Gregory. Then Rob Gregory hugged me, congratulated me, and handed me the Oscar. My Oscar.
For fuck’s sake, I won an Oscar.
Rob stepped to the side, leaving me in front of a microphone with dozens of my colleagues and heroes standing in front of me. Hundreds of thousands of others watched the greatest moment of my life happen right before them. It was time for me to speak, yet at that very moment, it was as if my tongue was tied.
Bubbly guts and twisted tongues.
I cleared my throat. “This is quite the shock. For starters, thank you to the Academy for the ultimate gift. I am blown away that this is happening to me. A huge amount of gratitude for the other artists in this category. These men are some of the most gifted individuals in this industry, and I want to apologize to you all for them somehow picking me over you. Clearly, they don’t know talent,” I joked, getting a bit of laughter from the audience. I thanked everyone involved in the making of the movie and then moved on to those who meant the most to me. “To my father, who pushed me into this industry and told me I’d one day be standing right here. Thank you for believing in this moment when I couldn’t see it. To my dearest mother, the woman who raised me, the woman I first loved, the woman who taught me all about life and the beauty of living it to the fullest… Thank you, Mom, for always being my right-hand woman. Dad’s a lucky bastard to have you.” I paused. “Can you say bastard at the Oscars, or are they bleeping that out?”