I’m late for class again and class is all the way across campus which means I am entirely screwed. Even still, I attempt to throw all my shit in a bag in time to hustle along but I drop my phone, can’t find my ID, and tear my homework in half by mistake before ending up accidentally-on-purpose falling into the arms of a tall dark stranger and making out with him instead.
None of this is my fault, of course, and I would have told my professor the same thing had my alarm not gone off to wake me from yet another manic last-minute catastrophic nightmare anxiety attack. I don’t know what it is about my mental state lately. I am distracted by something I cannot name or understand but Jesus Christ is it persistent. When I am in one place I long to escape to another. When I write one thing I feel is true, I question it over and over to death.
The frustrating dreams happen. Always right before it’s time to get up. My heart races, I’m jittery and nervous about being late or forgetting something. Not performing. Not meeting expectations, maybe that’s it. I’d Google it to find out what it all means but then I might discover even more reason to panic so instead I rise, knot my hair atop my head, pour an obscene sized black coffee and curl up to write a little something, if only to soothe my weary bones. I hate being tired at the beginning of the day. Makes everything feel like quite a long slog from here on out.
Outside the window to my writing room, morning sunlight is beginning to warm itself against the lush green leaves of the majestic trees which tower above the pretty houses along the street. Manicured lawns and fancy cars. Electric wires, home security systems, and garbage that gets picked up like clockwork every Wednesday at noon. All of us prim and proper, tucked and cut and chiseled and ever so gracefully insane.