love, your sweet p

May 12, 2019

Dear Diary,

     I gave the team jacket to Gia. Mom's out. I have Advil in front of me. Just wanted to write goodbye. Zero days left.

Love,

sweet p

~~~~~

     After many quiet hours of pretending to be asleep, I see the sun rise. I look at my phone. Six-twenty-three. I've officially made it through another day of not sleeping. I wanted to so badly. I'm absolutely exhausted. But I'll be able to sleep tonight.

     Brady is knocked out. Everybody is. Dance competitions are so tiring, but I can't seem to fall asleep for the life of me. People love to pull all-nighters, but it's devastating when you legitimately are forced to do three of them in a row because your brain cannot fall asleep.

     "Good morning, everybody. How was your night?" Gianna asks and I pretend to groggily get up.

     "Good," I lie, yawning.

     "You guys need to get off the bus and go home. I will see you guys on Wednesday. Paris and Berkleigh, good job yesterday. We pulled a win!" Gianna remarks and we all applaud Berkleigh and Paris.

     I stand up and I grab all of my bags and my phone. I'm the first one out. After me, Gia comes out. I need to give her my team jacket. But I can't do it here.

     "Hey, Gia, do you wanna come over for lunch today? We haven't hung out in a bit," I ask, rubbing my eyes.

     "Yeah, sure. That'd be fun. See you then!" Gia cheerily answers.

     She lives across from me, so when I used to have the motivation to invite people over and do social things, we would do stuff all the time. Minus the eighth week when we had an argument. But we got over it.

     One by one, we witness all of the kids and moms pile off the bus until Mom finally makes it out of the bus. She unlocks her car and I quickly open the trunk, putting my suitcase and dance bag in. The last time I'll ever be in Mom's car.

     "I'm proud of you," Mom tells me as we pull out of the parking lot.

     "Why?"

     "Because you stood your ground and you performed in a costume that you knew would piss Abby off. You stuck up for yourself and your own body. That takes courage," Mom answers.

     I'm not courageous. I'm a failure whose body isn't good enough. But I also don't care. I won't be here, so why should I care? But at the same time, I feel like I should make today the best day I can. Mom turns on the radio and instead of staying quiet, I sing along with her. I should make good memories.

     "Let's go get some stuff at Target. Summer's coming up. You need some new clothes," Mom abruptly announces and she quickly exits Target.

     Target used to be my favorite place. Now my favorite place is my bedroom because Mom will leave me alone. A couple of minutes later, we arrive at the red building everybody knows as Target. Last Target haul of my life.

     Immediately, Mom goes to the inside Starbucks and orders some coffee. I decide on a pink drink and a cake pop. My favorite order from Starbucks. But it doesn't taste good. It doesn't taste like anything. It isn't bland or bad, it just doesn't have any life. But, I mean, breakfast for champions.

     It's ironic that I'm shopping for clothes that will never see the light of day. As we start perusing the racks, nothing looks appealing to me. Nothing really looks cute or bad. Just meh. Clothes have no happiness. Shopping has no happiness.