In the heat of the night at 1:40 in the morning, she lay defeated on top of her crinkled covers. It was autumn for other people, but where she lived it was always summer, and a sticky one at that. It was so God damn hot she could practically feel her vessels vasodilating underneath her skin. As she thought that to herself, she scoffed- the only time Year 10 Biology came in handy. Go figure. The night was darker than most, quieter. The trees outside her window were still, and if she hadn’t known for sure they were real she would’ve thought they were figures in an old oil painting. She couldn’t even hear the sound of crickets like she usually could. With her unhelpfully heat emitting laptop resting on her sweaty thighs, she glared at a blank page and felt as empty as the screen she was looking at. Her eyes were starting to close. She had woken up early that morning but she wasn’t ready to go to sleep. Her racing mind kept her up; she thought of many things yet none of them were helping her create or write anything of use.
She sighed and thought of what her friends were probably doing. They were probably crammed in some crowded sticky club, grinding on guys and drinking shot after shot of vodka. She was glad she wasn’t there, yet she still felt the unmistakable thud in her stomach that was jealousy, loneliness. It wasn’t the type of jealousy that made her want to be with them, but she wished she was out there somewhere in the world. Anywhere but laying in her bed,beads of sweat forming on her back. She wanted to be making connections with people, to have conversations at midnight over red and white checked tablecloths and mediocre diner food like in one of those teen fiction books. As these thoughts crept into her mind, she caught hold of herself. Don’t be stupid. Real life isn’t highlighted chapters of a novel, yet something inside her still held onto the hope that one day every desire her heart pondered upon would materialize.
She thought of when she had felt most alive, and she was an introvert but her most memorable moments sure as hell weren’t spent by herself. She longed to feel the wind in her hair and the salt in her face as she perched on a rope tyre, feeling as if she were in a snow globe and somehow being able to see the world curve at its corners like she did two years ago. She remembered her best friend swinging her, laughing, and automatically felt the same sad feeling nudge her. She was mundane, in a rut, wishing she had more to her than just the same old daily routines. Everyday she was blanketed with ambivalence; I want to stay at home, but I should go out with my friends. But who were her friends? She didn’t seem to have very many lately. So she stayed at home, lying on the sofa, her bed, the floor. She would blast her favourite songs from her speaker and get up to cut herself some fruit or down a glass of water, and she would feel happy. It was just times like this, when everyone was out living their lives and she was stuck here, that she wanted to scream and tear her hair out.
She constantly preached positivity, so why did she feel so low? She knew not to look too far in the future but at the moment that’s the only thing she clung onto like a little girl clutching the string of balloon, hoping that one day she would finally be able to stop existing and start living, like she knew she was supposed to. She didn’t know what she wanted in life, she just knew it wasn’t this.
Sorry about this depressing post guys! May delete it in the near future but I think it’d be good to look back on and kind of be able to understand how I felt and how things have changed. Thanks for reading.