On November 8th, 2016 I had a night I knew I would remember for the rest of my life. This is my story, make of it what you will.
10:49 pm: I try to sort through a messy rough draft of a paper I have written. Of course, it is due tomorrow.
10:50 pm: I scroll and scroll at myself in horror. Why did I write so much?
10:52 pm: I continue to comb through the pounds and pounds of extra words and run-on sentences that are jumbled in this overkill of an essay.
10:53 pm: I debate going to bed and finishing this in the morning.
10:53 1/2 pm: I remember I am not a morning person and will not wake up in time to finish.
10:54 pm: I seriously debate asking for an extension.
10:56 pm: After debating amongst several pathetic excuses, I lay face flat on my bed.
10:57 pm: I debate getting out of bed to get food from the kitchen.
10:58 pm: I debate the reason for my existence.
10: 59 pm: Twitter
11:19 pm: Still on Twitter
11:29 pm: Check Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Twitter for his goodnight tweet.
11:39 pm: Watch Gilmore Girls.
12:39 am: More Gilmore Girls
1:39 am: That early? Cool, I better start going through this essay.
1:40 am: Checks Facebook.
1:41 am: Scrolls through Facebook.
1:42 am: Desperately scrolls through Facebook
1:43 am: Constantly keeps refreshing Facebook
1:44 am: Endlessly and endlessly scrolls through Facebook
1:45 am: Receives text message from sister
1:46 am: Resumes checking Facebook
1:48 am: New text message from sister
1:52 am: Worried
1:58 am: Extremely worried
2:00 am: Takes a deep breath, and decides to distract self from Facebook
2:15 am: Several messages from sister
2:30 am: Concerned roommate and roommate’s boyfriend come in
2:33 am: Time stops.
2:33 am: Time stops.
2:33 am: Time stops.
2:33 am: Does no one know else see what I am seeing?
2:33 am: Am I dreaming? This must be a dream.
2:33 am: Panic
2:33 am: More panic
2:33 am: Panic isn’t stopping
2:33 am: I seriously might throw up. Please make this stop.
2:33 am: My stomach is in knots. I’ve never experienced the saying to have your stomach feel tied up in knots.
2:33 am: I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.
2:34 am: Cries. Hard
2:35 am: Cries in fear of what this means
2:36 am: Cries for what this means for me
2:37 am: Cries for what this means for artists
2:38 am: Cries for what this means for LGBTQ+ communities
2:39 am: Cries for what this means for Latino/x communities
2:40 am: Cries for what this means for Black/African-American communities
2:41 am: Cries for what this means for undocumented citizens
2:42 am: Cries for what this means for women
2:43 am: Sobs because of what this means for women
2:44 am: Cries for what this means for humans
2:45 am: Roommate comes in and hugs me as I crumble. I hold onto her as if my mother is standing in front of me.
2:48 am: We do our best to comfort one another. Why should we have to be comforting each other right now?
2:52 am: I remember how my mother used to say I would be the first female president.
2:52 am: I realize now that there will never be a female president.
2:56 am: I wipe away tears, but I continue to cry inside. My stomach remains in knots feeling like it will never be settled.
2:57 am: I sit in silence.
3:00 am: Twitter
3:30 am: Still on Twitter
3:40 am: See what’s on Facebook
4:10 am: Go to kitchen to get some sort of food.
4:15 am: Eats sour gummy bears because I like sour gummy bears.
4:16 am: Opens laptop
4:19 am: Looks at paper
4:20 am: Begins to edit paper
4:30 am: Struggling to fix paper
4:40 am: There are no words to fix this.
4:45 am: There are no words for this.
4:50 am: There are no words at all.
5:00 am: I’m not going to write this paper tonight.
5:01 am Today: I’m not going to write this paper today. I don’t care.
5:02 am: I look at the view from the windows in my living room and see a new day has come. Somehow, someway the sun is still here.
5:03 am: I am still here.
5:04 am: We all are still here.
5:05 am: Aren’t we?
5:06 am: I close my laptop and go to my room.
5:07 am: I set my alarm for way too early a time knowing I will not sleep tonight.
5:08 am: I lay down and close my eyes, stomach still in knots. I wonder what the world will be like tomorrow. What it already is.
5:09 am: I think of what’s to come except I don’t get so far as my stomach remains unsettled.
5:10 am: I can’t stop thinking about my stomach. I won’t stop thinking about my stomach. I refuse to stop thinking about my stomach. This is my pain and I will deal with it. I will deal with it all night and the rest of my life if it means this isn’t happening right now.
5:12 am: I internally yell at my stomach. I sulk at my stomach. I can’t stop being mad at my stomach and I feel like I just might cry again. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t—