A loud cheering sound startles me awake. With a jolt, I fall off of my bed and onto the floor. I emit a groan as familiar music begins to play. Still groggy, I can't seem to place the name of the song. With the help of my bed, I force myself up from the floor. I yearn to go back to sleep, but the cheering won't shut up. Confused and annoyed, I lay my head in my hands and knead my throbbing temples as the familiar music plays. Where is it coming from?
"I wanna get you by yourself. Yeah, have you to myself. I don't need nobody else, don't want nobody else. He's special, I know. His smile, it glows. He's perfect, it shows."
The gears in my brain begin to turn, lifting the hazy fog of my tired mind. The song is called 'Who's That Boy'. The artist is Demi Lovato featuring Dev. Now, why would I be hearing Demi's music? I raise my head from my hands as I experience an epiphany. I was watching Sonny with a Chance last night on my phone when I fell asleep; therefore, my phone must still be on.
I scour my bed for my phone, tossing around pillows and blankets. It isn't until everything is stripped from my bed when I realize that the sound is now muffled. Bewildered, I search through the pile of blankets and pillows that are now on the floor. I soon find my phone, frowning when I realize that it only has seven percent battery life remaining. I plug my phone up to the charger and let my gaze fall over the mess that I created searching for the darn thing. An irritated breath escapes my lips as I realize that I'm going to have to clean all of this up unless I either want to sleep on the floor or on a bare bed. Weighing my options, I decide that, for the time being, I can just sleep on my bare bed with a blanket and a pillow. I'm deciding on what pillow and blanket to choose when my stomach grumbles. I check the time on my phone and curse when I realize that I've overslept. I pout at the fact that I won't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon.
I brush my teeth and my hair before exiting my bedroom, not at all caring that I'm still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Thankfully, the cafeteria is still open and serving food for the few late stragglers like myself. I quietly hum to myself as the line moves. When it is my turn, I grab a tray and choose a blueberry bagel with fresh strawberries and milk. I type in my number and exit the cafeteria without my anxiety getting too bad. I return to my room and sit on my bed. The silence seems oddly heavy at that moment. Usually, I welcome the silence, but today it makes me feel really lonely. I don't like the feeling.
I pop a strawberry into my mouth and chew thoughtfully as the Twitter application on my phone loads. I need something to do during my days besides obsessing over Demi, eating, sleeping, purging, and cutting. I pop another strawberry into my mouth as I realize how dull and secretive my life is. Everyday I'm keeping secrets from somebody. From everybody, I keep secret my self-harming and purging. From everybody but most, if not all. of the employees here, I keep secret my mother's identity. Well, my mother's identity isn't a secret because she's well-known around the globe. It's the fact that I'm her daughter is what is kept secret.
I scroll through my Twitter time-line on my secret, Lovatic account, occasionally re-tweeting people. I laugh at some of the perverted tweets and frown at the hate. I'm about to log off when a couple of tweets catch my eye. I search for similar tweets, thinking that my eyes have deceived me. When I notice that other tweets are confirming the news, I log off of Twitter and quickly go on Demi's official website. I gasp when I see the announcement: Demi Lovato live at the Patriot Center in Fairfax, Virginia. I click on the little ticket image which brings me to the TIcketMaster website. I scan the sections for available seats. I find no seats near the stage but a couple in the back. Closing that out, I search for VIP packages. I soon find some at the cost of two hundred fifty. Damn, she charges a lot of money. But, I have a lot of money. I have well over two hundred fifty dollars.
Deciding to ditch the concert portion, I purchase a single VIP package. Purchasing items online is one of the reasons why I created a bank account and got a credit card. All I had to do was threaten mommy dearest with her secret. She created the bank account and sent me the credit card. In return, I had to promise to never bring up the secret again. Well, mommy dearest, that promise will soon be broken.
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