𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺🧸

September 4 Dear Diary... I feel like something really bad is going to happen today. I honestly don't know why I wrote that sentence. I know it's ridiculous. I have no particular reason to be sad. I have plenty of reasons to be happy, too, but... But here I am, sitting here at five-thirty in the morning, awake, worried, scared, and completely lost, writing this. I keep telling myself that this feeling is because of the time difference between France and here, because of the flight and the exhaustion from traveling... but that isn't the reason for the deep fear I'm feeling. It doesn't explain this feeling of being lost and confused. The day before yesterday, when Aunt Judith and Margaret were driving back from the airport, I got this really strange feeling. The moment we turned onto our street, I suddenly felt like Mom and Dad were waiting for us at home. They must be standing by the stairs or sitting behind the window, waiting for us. I knew how ridiculous that thought was, but even when I saw the house, empty and silent, the feeling was still there. Aunt Judith opened the door. I walked inside and stopped in the middle of the hallway, listening carefully, waiting for Mom's voice to come from upstairs or for Dad to call my name from his study. Just then, Aunt Judith put her suitcase down behind me, sighed, and said, "Okay, we're home." Margaret laughed. And in that moment, this incredibly heavy, bitter feeling of loss washed over me... I'd never experienced anything like it before. I'm here... This is my home... So why does that sentence feel like such a lie? I was born in Fell's Church. I've lived in this same house my entire life. This is my room, with that burn mark on the floor that Caroline and I made when we secretly tried to light a cigarette back in fifth grade. We nearly choked ourselves to death trying to smoke it. I can see the tree outside from this window—the same one Matt and his friends climbed two years ago when they were trying to ruin the girls' sleepover for my birthday. This is my bed. My chair. My closet... And yet, everything feels unfamiliar now. As if this isn't my place at all. Worse than that, I feel like there is somewhere I truly belong, but I can't find it. Yesterday, I was so exhausted that I couldn't make it to the orientation meeting. Meredith picked up my class schedule for me, but I didn't feel like talking to her. Aunt Judith told everyone that I was tired from the trip and needed to rest, but at dinner, she kept looking at me like she knew there was more to it. Anyway, today I have to see everyone else. We decided to meet in the school courtyard before school starts. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. Maybe I'm scared of seeing everyone? Elena Gilbert stopped writing. She stared at the last line she'd written, then lowered her gaze. Her pen hovered above the little blue velvet diary. Suddenly, she lifted her head and, with a quick, frustrated movement, threw both the pen and the diary toward the window. They hit the glass and fell onto the bench beside it. Everything had become ridiculously stupid. Since when was Elena Gilbert afraid of seeing people? She got up and angrily slipped into her red silk kimono, without even glancing at the Victorian mirror above her cherrywood dresser. She already knew what she was going to see. Elena Gilbert, with her blonde hair, perfect figure, and model-like face—the senior girl every boy wanted and every girl wanted to be. But right now, there was a deep crease of frustration across her forehead and a line of sadness at the corners of her lips. She told herself that a hot shower and a proper cup of coffee would make her feel better. Then she calmly and unhurriedly went through her usual morning routine. Now she had to choose an outfit from all the new clothes she'd bought in Paris.