Today was stressful, but I feel good right now because I’m stoned and going horseback riding tomorrow. We had to go to the food bank, and disclaimer: I’m getting my period soon. So I wasn’t thrilled about being woken up, and I definitely hated having to go to the foodbank again.

Honestly, that first time with the school counsellor was nothing compared to this stressful shithole. First off, very religious. Yes, they are all religious but this one made us say a prayer and “Amen” which is fine, whatever. I respect all religions and I do think the church does a lot for the community. Rachel and mom both got seats, I was standing awkwardly by the wall trying to make myself as small as possible. I tried to straighten out my shoulders, but I looked ahead of me and seen this very skinny mother, rocking a stroller with a toddler in it back and forth. I could tell she was on meth, though she looked like a nice person and someone I would’ve ran away from when I was younger. She reminded me of my hometown, but the whole situation made me think of my hometown.

I was breathing fast and heavy, mom told me to step outside and I did. There was a toddler and a church administrator playing with bubbles. I smiled at them, the little girl looked away shyly. I walked around to the field and admired how beautiful the green grass was. I just wanted to lie on it, but I knew I had to go back in. I took a deep breath and stood in the same spot.

Some time later, people were getting confused as to where the line-up was. At the other one, we all got a Popsicle stick with a number on it and they called us up one by one. Here everyone just waited willy-nilly, not sure where the line started or ended. That gave me anxiety because I like structure.

Mom, Rachel and I are standing there, and this old lady says: “You guys aren’t supposed to be here. I was here at 11:30, so move.”

Mom said: “No really? We don’t even know where the line is, you don’t have to be like that about it.”

I then walked out, starting to cry. That morning I got a snap from my ex, saying I miss you in French. I miss her too, but what’s that going to do? I was looking at the beautiful green field, Rachel came to me holding the car keys and my phone. I wiped away my tears, but she already knew I was crying.

She asked, “Are you okay?”

I said, “Yeah, I’m just overreacting.”

I sat in the car, thinking about everything and watching myself cry in the mirror. Snapping some girl I met on whisper, flirting to make myself feel better. What I really wanted to do was call my ex. I wanted her voice to wrap around me like a warm hug, I wanted something to hold onto. I wanted her to make me feel better, because I felt weak, like I couldn’t handle anything anymore.

I took some deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it so personally, I guess it was everything combined.

Mom sent a text that said: “God will strike her down.”

I laughed because she’s not religious at all. Of course the food bank was at a church, but I thought it was funny my weird, spiritual, eccentric mother decided to say that to me to make me feel better.


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