Someone to stay

~ It was (not) only Just A Dream (1/2) ~

Warning: A loooot of drama.
Fasten your seat belts.
It's a very long chapter. Forgive me.
______________________________

Pov Beca

It's been 2 days since I left the hospital and finally I can enjoy the comfort of my beloved bed. God, that's something I wouldn't change for the world. There is nothing more beautiful than going back to sleep in your own room, on your own pillow, it is therapeutic, I could bet on it. Fortunately, these days my memory has decided to make me the immense pleasure of leaving the holiday period, in which she had improperly put on, taking back what I could not remember. Or at least a part. There are some dark spots that I still can't recover, I hope I can make it as soon as possible. I can't stand the idea of having my mind as if it had just passed under a perforator, it's feeling like a puzzle with missing pieces. You know they're in the box but you can't get them in yet. What nerves.

I've talked a lot with Blake these days and she's been updating me on the whole media situation that has come about because of my illness. It seems that someone near the bar where I felt bad, recognized me and took pictures, or a video, not that I care. All I know is that once I got home my mailbox was full of letters from fans, not to mention the porch that looks like it's become a flower shop. I am impressed by how much affection I am receiving, how many messages, I am speechless.

Some of my fans have written me such personal things, unhappy moments that they have also spent to show me that I'm not alone and probably to feel a little closer to me. They are precious and without them I would never have been able to win a platinum. In this week I would have had to do several interviews for -I don't know- how many newspapers, go on the radio for others, and I can hardly believe they invited me to a television show. Me? On television? Are you kidding me? I'm more and more shocked by what the media do, it seems as if once you enter this world, the current drags so quickly that you do not realize where you got. And that's just the beginning. Blake's work has been masterful, I knew I had the best manager of all but with all that has happened she has proved to be nothing short of fantastic. No one ever bothered me in the hospital, even when I was discharged, no paparazzo, no inappropriate journalist, nothing. And I don't think I can ever thank her enough for what she did. I should give her an extra week's holiday, probably.

- Yeah, okay, John, Friday. 9:00 am. Okay. Bye.

Speaking of the devil, I see Blake reaching me in the living room and falling in not gently way on the couch next to me, leaning her head against the backrest.

- You know, sometimes you're as delicate as a rhino.

- You're lucky, It’s just for a few.

I roll my eyes, noticing Blake's smug smile with the tail of my eye as she eats his abandoned chips on the coffee table a few minutes ago. She had left to answer a call and I had kicked her out with little grace because she was distracting me from the TV program whose name I don't even know. But it's interesting, they show how the most absurd things are done. Like dental floss. Who the hell thinks about that? It's a totally useless thing to know, I admit. The worst thing, though, is that you feel so ignorant when you see certain programs.

- So you, obsessed little bitch with meaningless programs, Friday morning at 9 am, are busy.

- What do you mean?

I turn slightly to the blonde giraffe and take my attention off the TV for a moment. What means I'm busy? Plus it didn't seem like a question, but more like an imposition.

- You have a radio interview. It's time to introduce yourself more openly to the world and they know you're recording your first record, so I guess they'll ask you questions about that too.