11:11

I look up from my bed to my alarm clock. I’ve been awake for hours, at this particular moment I should be listening to a professor discuss philosophy of science, which only a week ago I was very excited about. I’ve managed to leave my bed to go to the bathroom two hours ago, and just now, in a moment of boldness that quickly evaporated, I took a shower. The floor lava, my bed’s the only place that’s safe. The floor is lava, the kitchen is full of dirty diches, the trash is overflowing, last night’s takeout is still in the living room, and clean laundry covers my workspace, waiting to be folded and put away. The floor is lava and I cannot seem to gather enough courage to brave it. I’m stuck, trapped by the heavy load of a simultaneous everything and nothingness, weighing on my bed sheets. Underneath them I struggle to produce panicky breaths. Underneath them I try to motivate myself to get up, to face reality, to get some work done, to clean, to go to uni. To just. get. up.

The more I reproach myself, the harder it becomes to breathe.

‘Snap out of it!’

I try to dig the fingernails of my right hand into the inside of my left upper arm. I imagine my nails breaking the skin, my fingers poking into the flesh, wiggling their way through muscles and past tendons and wrapping themselves around the bone, the humerus, and holding onto it tightly. Somehow, it’s a comforting image, touching depths inside myself and embracing them, embracing my bones, my core.

I cut and filed my nails last week, so of course I’m not breaking the skin, but the crescent shaped indentions I’m making on my arm do manage to pull my focus. It calms me a bit. I catch my breath and once again, I defeatedly give into the shallow distraction that Instagram offers. I’ve been stuck in this cycle all morning. The short videos of nothingness on my phone are numbing, uninspiring, worthless. And are soon to become unbearable. In a thrashing manner I sit up in my bed and throw my phone at the wall. The blankets that safely covered me, now leave my naked back exposed to the chill air in my bedroom. I bury my face in my hands.

‘What are you doing?’

I feel ungrateful. I have everything, I’ve always been given everything. I’ve been lucky to have found this great place to live, although its greatness feels suffocating now that everything is out of order. I am able to study, my parents basically pay me to do so, but I’m unable to get myself to class. I have loving friends that I am now ignoring texts of. I’m smart, talented, pretty. I have everything.

‘Why can’t I make it work?’

I look over the bed to see where my phone landed. The wall’s a bit chipped, but my phone looks okay. It doesn’t matter, it’s engulfed by lava now anyways. That’s probably for the best. I sigh, let myself fall back on my pillow. I know this ceiling so well. Periodically, I study it like this. The last time was two months ago, as well as I knew then, I know now that it’ll pass, in two or three days I’ll get everything back on track. Rationally I know. I do know.

11:30

I can skip lectures, but I can’t skip my tutoring job. I have some time though. At noon, I’ll get up.