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Happy Birthday, Hunter
Dear Diary, The confusion is getting worse every day. From moment to moment. I don’t know who I am anymore. Grandpa always helped with that. He knew how to ground me. Now that he’s gone, there’s no one who can help me with that anymore. I don’t know if there’s a difference between what I’m doing and what I should be doing. But it feels like I’m trying to do the right thing, but manage to do the complete opposite. Who even am I? I dread the midnight of the eighteenth of November. Because of multiple reasons. I’ll see Eric, who hasn’t texted me since Friday. I haven’t texted him either. Maybe I should have. It’s been two days. I’ll have to stop avoiding Hunter, if I want to wish him a happy birthday. Which I don’t think I can do, but my mom will strangle me, if I don’t. Oh, and everyone
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