He brought a duffel. The navy blue bag perched against my roommate’s bed taunted me. I sized it up. It was small enough to sling over one shoulder without trouble but big enough to store a whole week’s worth of clothes. I wondered whether that was how long he was planning to stay over. It didn’t matter anyway. He was bound to stay for however long he wanted, as long as my passive aggressiveness worked its magic.

My roommate had been having her boyfriend sleep over for the past three weeks, but this time, seeing his duffel on the ground made it all seem too real. Night after night, I’ve had to bite my tongue from blowing up and locking them both out of the room, just to save myself the discomfort of having an extra roommate that I never asked for. I didn’t understand why it was such a hassle to go back to his own dorm (which I guarantee you is literally only a two-minute walk at most) to change or shower or do homework or, I don’t know, maybe even sleep there?! I never understood the affect of an extra body in a college dorm room until the suffocating humidity from our collective body heat rose more rapidly than it did before. Also, I wanted more than anything to change into my pajamas in the comfort of my own room instead of having to sneak away into a bathroom stall to do it. This is one of the worst things you could do to a homebody: taking away the comfort of being home! Don’t get me wrong, my roommate is nice. Her boyfriend is nice too – harmless and quiet. But that’s why I’ve been having such a hard time saying, “NO” every time she asks if he could sleep over.

That’s why I’m sitting at a study center at 1:35 AM, seeking refuge from them for a while. To be honest, as annoying as this situation really is, I know I’m only using them as scapegoats for my bubbling stress and frustration that has been accumulating this week.

If you take a glance at my empty, unmade bed, you can outline the exact shape of my body. That’s to say, I stayed in bed this whole day, wasting so much time avoiding the rest of the world that my figure created a semi-permanent indent on the old mattress. The disappointment has been showering over me like a mini rain cloud following my every step. At this point, I’m just numb to everything. It’s one of those days that I wish I could do over. I broke a lot of goals and promises that I made to myself in the beginning of the quarter, two of them being: go to Chem lecture and HumCore seminar everyday & don’t let your depression keep you from doing what you have to do.

(I admit the second one was a little ambitious to start with, but whatever.)

The thing is, I have to, HAVE TO, HAVE TO get my shit together by tomorrow because all my important deadlines are set for this weekend. Not facing my responsibilities this time around could result in really, really, really bad consequences. As in, I might have to repeat classes or not be able to enroll myself in any classes for next fall. Mind you, I’m only a first year, so screwing up this early is not the most favorable pathway. Whenever I try to sit down and think about my growing to-do list though, my brain gets all scattered and angry. Literally, my brows scrunch together in a scowl, my leg shakes at a furious frequency, and my jaw starts to tire from grinding my teeth against each other so much.

So as usual, I give up. I resort to moping in my sheets, watching dramas, getting sleepy, falling asleep, waking up, and repeating the cycle over. In total, I’ve had 1 meal, 3 naps, and 5 completed episodes today. The number of substantial conversations I’ve had with real people: 0.

I knew this was bound to happen. This quarter has been going a lot smoother than I expected, in regards to my mental health. But perhaps, the moment I thought that, I thought too soon. Because here we are. Me speaking in fragmented sentences since I can’t seem to process anything more than that. Also me walking around in a haze, acknowledging the fact that my life doesn’t seem as tangible like it did last week.

There’s this inner conflict that arises within me whenever I fall into this state. Do I hide away in solitude and learn how to fix it on my own, or do I reach out to people so they can help me clear my head? I think that’s why it’s so easy to turn to social media at times of distress: it’s the best of both worlds. When you send out a tweet or post announcing your sadness, you do so in hopes that someone will come to you eventually, but you don’t have to personally risk bothering him/her in person. Does that make sense? Sorry if my words are being constructed in a messy, gap-filled manner. It’s 2 AM and I’m starting to realize how late it is, how much time I really wasted today, and how much time I have to preserve for tomorrow.

What was I talking about…

Oh no…I think..

I may have lost my train of thought.

BUT! Long story short, I have to head back to my dorm soon, feeling unproductive and just… gross. In addition to my miserable mind, there’s an oily sheen coating my face, my hair itches from not taking a shower, and my stomach hurts from scarfing down dinner this late. All that, and I still have to face coming back home to my roommate and her boyfriend, probably cuddling in peace. AGHH I just want to change freely. This is all my fault, seriously. If I could just speak my mind, that’d be one less thing I have to worry about. I’m really uncomfortable, and this time, I don’t think taking refuge in my bed is the best way to deal with my problems.


P.S.: My roommate is literally one of the loveliest, most wonderful people out there. Don’t let this post make you think otherwise.

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