DAY 20.

She just wanted to make some chicken fingers. She wanted to forget the morning. She wanted to just sit with her chicken fingers and become absorbed in an old television show she used to like. She burnt her hand. Badly. He acted strange around her this morning and she pretended to not notice. But she noticed. Of course she did. How could she not?

She doesn’t fully understand why she’s been reduced to tears, right now. But here she is. Sobbing in her kitchen. She grips the edge of the counter by the sink. Her hand is stinging from the burn. She isn’t crying because it hurts. Well, maybe she is. Just a little. But there are other reasons. She’s crying because of everything else.

The apartment looks the same. Everything is where it should be, in its right place.

The chicken fingers lay forgotten on the pan. The oven hasn’t been turned off yet. There is a too small oven-mitt on the floor. She threw it there out of anger. Sometimes she gets angry. Sometimes she doesn’t know what to do or how to express it, so she throws things. Her cell phone has endured the brunt of this behavior at times. No wonder she had to get a replacement.

She’s still crying. There is a fear that her roommate will walk in soon. Then she’ll have to answer questions like, “Why are you crying?” No one likes to answer those questions. The burn is angry. It’s red. She tries running some cold water on it, but the sink never gets cold enough. She grabs a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. This will do.

This is not the first time she’s cried in this apartment. No, just a few days ago, she cried in the shower. She wasn’t sure it was happening at first. It’s easy to mistake tears and shower mist. When she felt her body collapse in on itself, that’s when she knew. Her palm slipped against the cruddy tile of the bathtub. She hoped she wouldn’t fall and get a concussion. How embarrassing, to have to have someone come in and find you naked. Crying. Concussed.

Her shampoo was running down her face and burning her eyes. It just made her cry more.

Nothing is going the way she thought it would. Someone should slap her, one of these days. She presses the vodka against her palm. Drinking it would be more fun, but alcohol gets her nowhere good. Not at all. She turns off the oven. She feels terrible that she hung up on her mother. She had been speaking to her, right before she burned her hand. Her mother got flustered and let her go. Told her not to be distracted on the phone.

This, like so many other things in her life right now, will definitely leave a mark.

Tags: anger, being ignored, burns, cooking mishaps, frustration, hopelessness, phone conversations, sadness