It’s 8.30 AM and the alarm rouses me. I turn it off and go back to sleep.
It’s 10.30 AM and I awake, it is clear that I need to get out of bed, that I have slept long enough – 10 hours. The grogginess from oversleeping is already kicking in, my head is hurting, my face hurts, my eyes are unfocused and lazy. I ignore this feeling and go back to sleep.
It’s 11.30 AM and I awake, returning to sleep is no longer possible and so I lay in bed alternating between opening and shutting my eyes. Eventually, I get out of bed.
For a good couple hours I sit in the kitchen on my phone. Nothing productive has happened so far, and yet already I feel exhausted from the day’s events. Hunger kicks in and so I make myself a half decent breakfast – I enjoy cooking, and so consuming the fruits of my labour puts me in a good mood.
Refreshed, I do some uni work. Catch-up would be a better term for it. Until within an hour the feeling of motivation subsides and I return to unproductive behaviours. Netflix, YouTube, social media.
It’s 3.26 PM and I have caught up on 3 pages of lecture notes. I am about 50 pages behind. It feels as if I’m running after a maxed-out Lamborghini Veneno, without any shoes or socks on.
The realisation that today has been yet another waste has kicked in, as it does every day. The depression has worsened: self resentment has peaked, and my self worth has deteriorated, as it does every day.
I understand that this is not healthy behaviour, that these emotions are not health emotions. Yet as intrinsic a property to matter is inertia, so to is it to my mental health.
These internalised feelings of isolation, fear, dread, corruption, worthlessness, they are familiar feelings. In fact, they are so familiar I am almost.. comforted.. by them. As if the fear I am experiencing now cannot be matched by the fear of getting out of this cosy, dependable, familiar depression. It has been so long that I cannot remember what it’s like to be innately happy, I dread the idea of becoming innately happy, just as one who is innately happy would dread the idea of being innately depressed.
Yet the days go by, leaving me behind in the dust as I suffer comfortably.
It will be 5 PM, and I will have done nothing more productive.
It could be 5 PM, and I could have done 10 pages of lecture notes.
It will be 8 PM, and I will have done nothing more productive.
It could be 8 PM, and I could have done a fulfilling well-balanced meal and 10 minutes of meditation.
It will be 1 AM, and I will just about be attempting to sleep.
It could be 10.30 PM, and I could be going to sleep, ready to start tomorrow refreshed after a good night of sleep, so that maybe tomorrow could be different, so that maybe tomorrow could be better.
Maybe tomorrow could be better.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
UnstableNucleus 