A Day

Work in progress!

I woke up twice before actually waking up today. The first time was 10:54 a.m. and I wasn’t ready to face the world quite yet. So I told my brain to shut back off as quickly as it could, and in my groggy state, I succeeded. 12:03 p.m. I woke up again. Hungry this time, so back to sleep I went. Finally at 1:02 p.m. my mind and body refused to go back into hibernation, so I kept my eyes open. What I love about waking up is that you have those few moments to enjoy staring at the concrete wall without a care in the world before reality slowly seeps its way into your brain. Even after reality smacked me across the face this afternoon I continued to stare at the wall until I had to sprint to the washroom. I am the type of person who really pushes myself to my limits. How great is it that I can really push myself to stay asleep for as long as possible to avoid my own mind? How admirable that I can lay in bed, desperately holding my bladder until I have no choice but to run to the washroom, because I am afraid of what lies outside my door?

            My ears alert my brain when someone opens the door to the washroom and I remain in the stall. I strain to listen to the footsteps, hoping to match them to their owner. I try to time my following actions in a manner that will avoid confrontation. I dart out of the stall, begin to wash my hands and then as I am drying them one of my floor-mates walks out of the stall adjacent to the one I had occupied. I force a grin and say hello, ask them how they’re doing and hope that the conversation will end there. It does, so I hurry back to my room and slam the door behind me. I stand for a moment deciding what my next move of the day will be. And then, I am lying in bed again.

            I open my laptop and watch vapid videos because I see myself as not smart enough to read or watch something that will educate me. I am not intellectual enough to understand the great novels that have been written, I am not open-minded enough to listen to music that has a deeper meaning than I can comprehend, I am not capable of absorbing the information given to me in lecture videos. I sit there staring at the screen for hours while my stomach turns itself over as a baker kneads bread. Occasionally moving my eyes towards the time to record what I’m putting myself through and for how long. I have been hungry for four hours. I have been thinking about what I will eat for those four hours, in fact I know exactly what I want to eat. But I remain in my bed until I know that I must eat for the sake of my body. My mind doesn’t really care.

            It takes half an hour to get myself ready. Not to dress myself or fix my hair, but to prepare to leave my bed. I tell myself over and over that I will do it. The minutes tick by and I remain in the same position, my brain fighting with my body. Finally I stand. I don’t change my pants or shirt; I simply pull a large sweater over my head so that no one will be able to tell that I’m not wearing a bra. I walk over to the window and pull open the curtains and my eyes adjust to the daylight. I believe that light is supposed to make people happier, but opening the curtains has made me sad. I am overwhelmed by the people walking past my building, seeing them go somewhere that they are probably meant to be, or where they want to be. I wish it were that easy. I turn away from the window and step into my rain boots while I slip my arms into the sleeves of my pea coat. I search the bed for my headphones and plug them into my phone and shove the buds into my ears. I press play and listen to the song without really paying attention to the words. I use the music to make myself unavailable to the outside world and myself. It is a distraction from my thoughts.

            I slip out into the hallway, with the hope in the back of my mind that no one else will be out there. I’m in luck. I lock the door behind me and let my body mindlessly bound down the stairs and out the door into the cool, wet spring day. I start towards the restaurant with my head down. My headphones and posture make it nearly impossible for anyone I may know to stop and talk to me. I acknowledge that the walk to the restaurant is the length of the song I listened to, just over five minutes. I kick myself for taking four hours to walk five minutes. I walk in and am relieved to see empty tables. I am the only customer and choose to sit in the far corner. The owner acknowledges me and brings over water and a menu. I robotically let out a “thank you” and shield my face with the menu. A group of four guys in their early twenties walk in and take a table on the other side of the restaurant. I avoid looking over. After a few minutes they tell the server that one of them has left their wallet in the car and they all accompany him back outside, all the while claiming that “they’ll be back” as they hustle through the door. I can tell that they won’t be back, and for some reason, I feel as if I have caused them to leave. How presumptuous of me.