Chelsea slapped me
No, the real truth is, Chelsea beat me. My daughter hit me. That was when the affair came out. She said "Jerk" and slapped me in the face. I could handle Hillary's reproaches. She had the right, she is my wife, but not Chelsea. She is my daughter. She has the right to be angry at me. She did not have the right to hit me. I brought her up for all those years, when she was a little girl. There is nothing worse for a parent than being hit by your own child. Except maybe if your child dies. There is still a lot of pain, because of that. A lot of pain in me. I love my daughter to death, but there is distance between us. I act like a father. She acts like a daughter, but the innocence has gone.
There is nothing more in my life I would like more than for Chelsea to put her arms around me, look in my eyes and say "I'm sorry, daddy". I want her to talk to me so bad. I want my little girl back. I want things to be as they were. Chelsea, I love you sweetie, please come back.
This is a very emotional subject for me that I can't talk about without crying. I've been in this mood the whole morning. Ever since she called. The weather is almost fall like here. I closed the curtains. I opened a bottle of wine and put one of my favorite albums in the CD player. Demis Roussos (see sidebar). He's a Greek singer, a bit like Neil Diamond, who used to be one of Europe's best selling artists. He didn't do much on this side of the Atlantic, though he sings in English. I heard him sing when I was in France. His music fits my mood perfectly. It's sad, like a Greek tragedy. His music always makes me cry when I'm in a melancholic mood, like today. It's good to cry once in a while. It clears up the air and allows the sun to shine through. At least for a while.