This chapter mentions the use of drugs, trauma, and eating issues. Nothing too bad just a little. Drink some water today please.
I knew I had to get up, but I honestly didn't feel like it.
Yesterday Neil helped me drop out, due to recent events. I moved back from my apartment to my mom's house. Charlie was happy to see me. I have heard news that he's been getting in trouble, but when he told me why, I understood why he did what he did, and I understand why he was punished.
I finally got to the point where I could drag myself out of bed. I could smell the pancakes being cooked downstairs. I knew they were only making them because of what happened, they were trying their best to make me feel better.
I made my way downstairs, my tired body not wanting to cooperate with me.
I went into the kitchen, Niel and Charlie were sitting at the table, while mom was cooking in the other part of the kitchen.
“Hey sport....” I heard Niel say, sounding as if I was a child, “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine.” I replied monotoned. I honestly didn’t feel like speaking. It just doesn’t feel right.
“You have a letter, it's from Bernard." Charlie said, passing an envelope to me. After Niel and mom finally started to believe Dad that he was in fact Santa, I got around to telling them that I was sending letters to the head elf that works there. Mom endlessly teases me about “wHaT iF hE lIKeS yOu”. I never can get out a response, because the thought of him liking me left me speechless. I knew it would never happen, he is centuries older than me, and he would never like me like that.
I sat down next to Charlie, tearing open the letter. The familiar smell of peppermint and cinnamon wafted up into my nose, instantly making me smile. It was a subtle but comforting smell.
I slipped the letter out of the envelope, I thought about reading the letter here at the table, but maybe not, due to the fact that I don’t trust that Charlie won't read it over my shoulder. And this letter is the response to the letter I sent him about what happened. I slipped the letter back in its envelope, saving it for later.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Charlie asked, his look of confusion was matching Niel’s.
“I’ll wait.” I spoke quickly and quietly. I watched as Mom came towards the table with a plate filled with pancakes stacked on top of one another in one hand and in the other a thing of syrup. The butter was already on the table, and I don’t understand why this family keeps the butter at the table. Oh well.
We ate, mostly in silence. It wasn't a comfortable silence though. I felt as though I didn't belong, I had been gone for so long, and now I'm back, after a really shitty turn of events, and now everyone's acting like I'm a bomb waiting to go off.And I feel that the only reason they're taking care of me is because they feel bad for me, they pity me.
I could barely eat; all my thoughts could think of was throwing up. I couldn’t even stand to look at the food. I knew it tasted good, but the thought of putting that shit into my mouth made me want to gag. Mom must have noticed that I wasn't eating, and the disgusted look on my face.
“Does it not taste good? " She asked, giving me a concerned look.
"No, no ,no! Not a all!" I said. "I'm just not very hungry."
Now I feel like a peice of shit
"You haven't been hungry these past few days, is something wrong?" I had no comment to that. He was right.
"I'm....just not hungry.." I mustered, feeling extremely guilty for somthing I don't know about.
I saw Niel purse his lips. He was getting annoyed. He's usually a pretty chill guy, but I was getting on his nerves now, just for not being hungry.
"You know that's not very healthy, right?"
All the attention of the room was on me, and I hated it. It was like a thousand eyes peircing through my skin, them knowing of my mistakes.
"I'm sorry ok? It's not my fault that I'm not hungry, I'm just not in the mood right now."
With that, I got up from the table, taking my plate to the kitchen. I went back upstairs to my room, the anger rising in me.I knew that such a small thing like me not being able to eat food was stupid. But somthing in me is pissed about it. It's not my fault, so why are they berrating me about it?
I quickly went to my closet, retrieving a small box that has been hidden from the rest of the house.I opened it, the familiar smell of marijuana filling my nose. It was comforting to me, it had a sense of calming over me.
I went over to my window where there was a little ledge, opening it. I took a deep breath of the crisp fall air, looking down into our back yard.Out there laid an old swing set. I remember the day we bought it, how the long hair I had flowed through the air as dad pushed me up and down.
I sighed, remembering those days. But I didn't miss them. Every adult I know has always told me to 'enjoy my childhood.'. There was nothing to enjoy about my childhood. From hiding my dysphoria, the divorce, to dealing with untreated mental illnesses, it was nowhere near fun. And I thought being older would be better, but I'm 19 and nothing major has gotten better. But I keep going anyways.
I took out the rolling paper, filling it with the weed, carefully rolling it up.
It took me a second to dig my lighter out of the deep abyss that is the box I keep stuff hidden in.
The only reason I'm smoking Is because of the stress. The meds that Neil gave me aren't working. They just make me super tired and numb.
I took of drag of the blunt, slowly exhaling the smoke out the window. As I watched the gray smoke drift out the window, I felt myself relaxing.
I shifted my weight over to my left side, and I felt the letter from Bernard in my pocket. I wondered how he responded to the dump truck worth of stuff I dumped on him.
I took the letter out of my pocket, taking the letter out of the rip I made earlier. And yet again, the scent of cinnamon and peppermint wafted into my nose, along with the scent of weed. I could feel my head swimming, but not in a bad way. It felt more like those colorful liquids you would slowly mix with a toothpick. I know that probably make zero sense but that's what it was like, along with a feeling of my limbs not being there.
𝘔/𝘯,
𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘬.
𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦.
𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘭; 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦!!
*𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘴*
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘦!
I stopped reading for a second. I didn’t believe what I just read.
𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.
𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘥
I had to read over the short letter a few times to make sure I read everything right. I was shocked. My dad said I could stay at the north pole.
I took another hit of my blunt, letting it sink in.This next week is gunna be fun.
A/n: sorry this one took a sec to post I procrastinated a lot.
Make sure to like (if you want or can) it really helps