Public Holidays: Chloe Vollenhoven

Not exactly sure what today is. Been sitting around the house trying to read Am I normal yet? but I can’t seem to get into it. Feeling deflated. What’s new with that feeling right? It’s just that today, it seems to weigh so heavily on me that I don’t have the energy to move about. I don’t feel like talking to anyone but they insist on talking to me. Dad says no one can talk to me anymore without fearing repercussions. Mom sighs every time, that’s how I know she’s about to speak to me next. Jack doesn’t even bother speaking. He scribbles drawings on bits of paper and slides them over to me.

Mom and Dad made the decision to remove my bedroom door. Therefore I have no privacy. There isn’t an inch of this small house that seems to be mine anymore. It’s suffocating me. Try explaining that to them and dad flys off the handle and mom, goes all pale and stiff like the pole wedging itself even further up her… you know…

School, is a daily slog. Sometimes it’s a good distraction but only for a few hours of my day. I’ve given up the piano and taken to the violin. Don’t know why. I just needed a challenge. Perhaps I also needed to not share it with HIM anymore. The kids at school all treat me like I’m a leper. Barely speaking to me, unless it’s to taunt me about my old lady status. You fall behind once and you are deemed old or whatever these immature idiots claim. Maybe I am old. I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives since last year. It all now feels so far away. Priya and Grace have left the school. Found that out when I came back full time. Priya’s parents no longer wanted to risk her being under my influence… that’s what they said – to my parents. And Grace? Well, she received a scholarship to the Oprah Winfrey school. That’s only what I heard. She hasn’t spoken to me since last year either.

I’m not here to make friends anyway.

The good news, I supposed would be that I stopped emailing HIM now. It doesn’t mean I don’t think about HIM but the hollow edge to the pain has ceased into something strangely distant. Like I want to remember the pain but it’s too far away to reach now.

I bet that would relieve my mother from the stick. At least it would give her brief repose. I thought I had it all figured out last year. I thought I had planned out the rest of my life. I was stupid to believe that for a second. I’m almost 17 years old and I am no closer to knowing what I want to do with the rest of my life today than I was when I was in the throes of my eating disorder.

Some days are still harder than others.

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