One Night Only

Tuesday

Burdine woke up in a cold sweat. She was at home, but was so confomfortable she had to call it sick... to herself. The thing is, she isn't physically sick. It is that kind of situation when you guilt-trip yourself into thinking you don't deserve a day off but you do? After crying and throwing pillows at the floor, what else can you do? It is raining again, bummer. She got naked and made herself a bath. Not warm, icy. So cold your fingers goes numb. She slipped her first foot in the water holding her breath but not giving up. Her skin became this grey-ish purple-ish color. Plum. She enters her second legs while squatting down quickly to forget the temperature. Holy shit, it's cold.

The sound of the oxygen leaving her lungs was loud. So loud it was a scream. It was so painful but she does this everyday when she is sick... no not the physical sick. That kind of sick that crawls in your brain when you want to get your shit together. She held her breath again and dunked her head in the water. Long lines of hair were twirling around her face making it hard to see the surface like a cave with all of it algaes. Dark, scary and full of monsters. Small bubbles were in front of her. No more holding it in. It was getting pitch black and the strings of hair weren't visible anymore. Then, it became lighter. She heard a bark. Her head immediately left the water. Nothing.

It's 10 am now, better take those medicines before times runs off. Fully dressed, she opened her bottle of Citalopram but took some time to get the twist action right. She's still Burdine after all. She swallowed her 50 gram in one swallow and grabbed the nearest banana and ate it. She sat in from of her TV and surfed the channels for a few minutes.

''Mr. Powell, it is true that you have been an undercover spy for all those years?'' a reporter asked a man, Byron Powell, TV host, music producer, manager and, of course, secret agent.

''Knew it'' Burdine laughed.

The man seemed rushed by a ton of paparazzi and other groupies following him. Why do they like him so much anyway? Is it because he's british? That's boring. He entered a car without answering and left off. Pussy. Burdine changed channel and felt asleep.

Waking up near 3 pm, the TV was still on the kids channel. This reminded her that she was never able to have kids. Being infertile already sucks, but being infertile because of an eating disorder is the worse. She has tried most techniques to conceive a child without the help of a partner. It just wasn't meant to be. She stared blankly at the rectangular shape's bright lights and lost focus again. TV hits different when you're high on meds. She wished kids liked her enough to babysit them or befriend them at least. She always was bullied by them regardless of her age. She always had particular taste for ''ugly'' clothings and decorations. Victorian fabrics with roses wallpapers. Her entire house looked like a museum at some point. After she went to rehab, her sister changed the decor for a more modern look. She was probably jealous of her fashion sense. That' what it was, right?

When they were kids, she always had the best circumstances. All the toys and the friends and all and all and all. She is so talented and pretty. That's why she became her. Burnice. That bitch. She went to private school but not Burdine. Instead, she got attacked and ridiculed by teenagers who didn't understand her. The '80s sucked hard. She's doing it again, the whole talking-but-not-listening thing. It's loud.