Another Morning. You toss and turn inside of your sheets and hope that your professor canceled class. Fun fact, they didn’t. You sit there for the next 15 minutes scrolling on social media. Another party, another good time, and a whole lot of smile all surrounding your friends. You’re happy for them, but sometimes you wish it were you. Sick to your stomach you debate skipping class. Do I really need to go? What if he gives us a quiz? Maybe just this one time I can skip and email him saying I got the Flu. But you know damn well you don’t have the flu. But what were you to possibly say? “Hello Mr. Professor, I cannot come to class today because my depression is acting up and I can’t leave bed. Hope you understand.”
You know they will never take that as a legitimate excuse so you sigh. They only ever care when you’re physically sick not mentally you silly girl. So you type that fake email about your sickness and go back to sleep. For once the pain goes away and life becomes tolerable. You wake up around 1 pm and force something into your stomach. I have to eat, you say to yourself. Truth is you hate eating. It just makes you sick every time so you end up avoiding it that day. Reality hits in that you have a 3 pm class and you have skipped it too many times to count so you are forced to attend. On your walk there you listen to the campus.
The people are lively, talkative, and presumably happy. You are irritable, not sociable, and wishing you never left your dorm. You get to your class and sit in your seat. Another day and another anxiety filled class. You tell yourself that you can stand the world for 50 minutes, don’t be a wimp. 20 minutes pass and every time you look up at the clock you count the minutes till you leave. “Okay I only have 15 left, now 10, now 5. Thank god.” After class you hurry to your room. You summon up the courage to go to dinner with some friends that evening. Not only does your friends join you in this meal but the emptiness that resembles your stomach. Looking around you see people talking, laughing, reminiscing, and you feel that maybe that’s what you should try and do but you ignore the thought and shove some food into your system. Everything seems fine for the moment. You feel ok that you survived most of the day. But who the hell gets through their day with a thought process like that? “Oh well, I only got a couple more hours before I can be done with this day, thank goodness. “I will tell you who, me. It makes me sad to hear myself say it aloud or even think of life like that. Days like this, life is just a ticking clock until I can get back in my room and avoid my problems and anxieties and the grand scenario of life.
After dinner, you do homework or go to your group meeting. You sit there quiet, unmoved, and happy it is over. At the end of the night, you binge watch movies and your favorite shows with you’re favorite person and you finally feel somewhat alive. You get a couple laughs in, some moments of joy. A thought flashes through your mind that moments like this are what you live for and why you stick around. You want to be genuinely happy, you know you should, but you just can’t. So you fall asleep with the ease knowing you can get away from your mind for a while. The next day you wake up and without mention it hits you again, another day to face, to count the clock, and to get through. Only 23 more hours to go before you can go back to bed.
