I did the weekly account check today. There was nothing there as usual.

The house has been very quiet since the funeral. Mum's buried herself in her writing and Dad's just enjoying his retirement. Sometimes I wish I could retire. It feels like I've been working all my life, but maybe that's natural for someone my age. Maybe if I'd actually become a singer like I'd dreamed as a child, things would be different. I should have broken away from my family as soon as I could. 

I'm still eating loads, although it's difficult to take from around the kitchen without someone noticing sooner or later. I keep dreading that Mum will suddenly want to use that big block of cheese for dinner and find it missing. I feel like Pip at the beginning of Great Expectations, when he steals the food for Magwitch. 

The grocer said I was looking tired the last time I saw him. He said his wife could probably recommend some good concealer for under my eyes. I said thank you, to which he replied 'How's about another kiss, then?' I had to tell him about my brother which shut him up very quickly. I wish he'd stop asking me to do things like that.

It would be nice to take some time off work to pull myself together, but I get examined every morning, and if Mum thinks I'm fine then I go in. I'm still upset about Dylan obviously and so I'm not working at a very high standard. I hope they don't get rid of me. I need these jobs.

The End

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