dear diary

chapter 22

The rest of the week flew by, occupied with nothing other than studying and job hunting.

Chase did end up coming over, but my mother had mixed up her days and doesn't start working until this Wednesday. So, we did the same thing we had for the past few days, sat in silence and studied.

Now, it's Sunday, and I feel like I've barely had any time to myself. Midterms are this week, on Tuesday and Wednesday. We have half days, which is a blessing, the days are split up by class.

Tuesday I have English and calculus, and Wednesday is gym and psych.

Then, school will finally slow back down and go back to normal.

I've spent the whole weekend alone in my house either studying or surfing the web for available jobs, because each week that passes is another week closer to my birthday.

I haven't talked about it with her, but I'm pretty sure what my mother said still stands, and that I'm on my own once I turn 18.

I need money to pay for my gas, and food, if she isn't going to help me with those things anymore.

So far, the only things I've found are McDonald's, the local grocery store, and a department store in the mall.

I'm leaning more towards the department store, but I still have to apply and figure out who wants me first.

The pay isn't great, but it's something and I'm willing to take anything at this point.

After entering my email into all of the applications, and praying one of them takes pity on my weak resume, I go downstairs to have dinner.

My mother sits at the counter, eating her own food, and points to a take out box on the other side of the table.

"Here, I got you something," she says, and I furrow my brows.

"You did?"

"Yeah, there's nothing in the refrigerator, someone has to go shopping, and I didn't want to listen to you complain about being hungry," she says, and I just nod.

I haven't voiced a single complaint to her in more than a month, so I'm not sure where she's getting that from.

I don't really have the energy to argue, though, so I take the box back up to my room after quietly thanking her.

I sit down on the bed and open it, seeing ten boneless wings and sweet potato fries, my favorite.

Why is a box of food making me emotional?

Not only did she go out of her way to get me something, she got my favorite. Is this some sort of progress?

I decide to stop overthinking, and just eat my dinner with no second thoughts.

I'll remember to thank her a little louder next time.

***

Monday went by in a blur of open notebooks and chewed pencils, Tuesday morning coming way too quickly for my liking.

I decided on wearing leggings and a hoodie today, figuring comfort is a better option than style when leaning over a desk taking a twenty page test.

My car came back from the shop yesterday, the police department very kindly paying for the service, so I no longer have to drive my mothers car.

I make sure to eat some sort of breakfast, reading somewhere that the mind is nothing without nourishment, before grabbing my keys and making my way to school.