It’s one of those times when you decide that you’re finally gonna do it. You’re gonna write it all down, all your thoughts and feelings, all the pent-up emotion that’s simmering just inside you, everything that’s going on in that freaking head of yours. It doesn’t matter if it turns out good or bad. What matters is that you’re willing to do it. Not to show it to anyone, just to read it yourself, and maybe feel relief when it helps you to figure out your own heart.
And well, you can’t deny that there’s always a possibility that it turns out just good enough for you to post it on your social media passing it off as “poignant fiction written on a blue day”.
So you do what? You take a pen and a piece of paper, make sure the rifle is working, take a deep breath, and start writing…
Only to realize that you just can’t do it.
It’s okay though. You’re probably still in a slump. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened- you trying to write something only to not know where to begin.
Maybe you’re just tired, burned out with all the assignments and projects you have to do every day that you are barely able to cope with yet still somehow don’t care about one way or another. Maybe, as people say, the time isn’t right. You’ll probably try some other day, in a better mood perhaps.
Or maybe it’s one of those times when you realize that some things are better left unsaid, one of those times when the thought of seeing those words on a paper terrifies you more than the fear of what might happen if you let them choke you from within, one of those times when pushing something deep down seems a much easier option than letting it out.
Maybe, deep down, you know that it’s just too hard.
So, you put the pen down, tear the barely filled page from your diary, crumple it in your fist, and hurl it at the wall. Then, you slump against the headrest of your bed and close your eyes, breathing heavily. All of a sudden you feel this huge, terrible ache in your whole body, your mind, and you know it’s nowhere related to physical exhaustion. You feel tired. So so tired. Too tired to brush your teeth even, or switch off the lights. And before you realize it, your damp eyes shut on their own, and sleep, mercifully, puts an end to your train of thoughts.
You wake up the next day, not remembering for a moment how you slept in the first place, your untouched glass of milk still lying on the bedside table, cold now, sweat sticking your hair to your neck because you forgot to turn on the AC.
But at first, you don’t notice all this. You don’t look around so you don’t see what’s wrong, or think about all the homework pending, the open books lying on your study table. You don’t notice all the heat and all the bright light. For it’s that blissful moment when you’re barely conscious, your mind teetering somewhere between dream and reality. Your eyes are half closed and at that moment, it’s easy to forget everything, to ignore the sound of somebody shouting in the kitchen, the nagging of your brain as it tries to remind you, “wake up, it’s getting late!” It’s easy to shut it all out and focus instead on the sounds of daily morning traffic drifting up through your balcony, or the dream you just had…what was it again? Something about books and space and time travel, and the possibility of a bigger world, and at this moment, you can still trick your brain into believing that it’s all real.
But you know that if you open your eyes, it’ll all be gone. It’ll vanish, just like that.
So, you don’t. You lie there, a half smile forming on your lips.
But the sounds from the kitchen are getting louder, the light coming from your window becoming too harsh, the nagging in your brain becoming more insistent. And before you know it, you’re blinking rapidly, holding up a hand to your eyes to block out the sun.
It’s a new day. A new beginning. Yet your diary still lies untouched beside you, and your homework is still pending. Your heart still feels heavy with the things you’ll never say. You glance at the clock- 10:30 am. This would be the time to fling yourself out of bed, rush to the bathroom, take a quick bath and start finishing up all your work, while at the same time trying to get a few slices of bread in your roaring stomach.
As the heavy reality of all this starts sinking in, another thought enters your head- It’s Saturday… And you only get a weekend once a week… And it’s only 10:30 am… And studies and life can wait another hour but sleep…aah, there was just something so sweet about that dream you just had, it even had robots and cyborgs!
So, instead of getting up, you groan, grab a pillow and shove it on top of your eyes to block out the light, stretch a hand towards the remote to turn on the AC, and fall right back into bed, into dreams of androids and books, and a life that is worth dying for.
Or, in this case, sleeping for.