The White Rabbit Would Hate Me For This

Recently, I've been hit with this heavy feeling I couldn't quite understand. Whenever I look up on the wall clock in our living room, I receive a pang of ache in my chest. No, I am not in a relationship, I am not seeing anyone, I am not talking about the consequences of falling in love. There's just something about the incessant ticking of the timepiece that brings countless waves of dread to wash over me.

The thing is, I am on the extremes when it comes to the concept of time. I'm too early, too late, or nowhere to be found. Never shall I understand how these numbers are ruling over our lives like some sort of olden-times monarchist government. Off with your head, the midnight chime would say, the words reverberating eerily through my bones. You have failed to do any good for the past twenty-four hours. Or for the whole extent of your existence.

Before my mind thought it was good to lose some sanity over time-telling devices, I barely gave a second thought about how I should go on and end my journey. All that I had was "there's still tomorrow to save myself". Sometimes the days seemed to get progressively worse, but with a scroll through my phone's calendar app, I knew I have more than enough time. I can still make it without claiming something that's not mine to claim. I can still get to see better days to happen to me. But I turn to the next page and surprise surprise, everything is blown up, out of size. When I try to go and inspect, the world decides it is best to play a joke on me and starts spinning faster, people are moving faster, life is happening faster. Right in front of me. I can't get to fall into step with anybody or anything. I'm stuck on quicksand I walked by in Dreamland.

And I'm left questioning the idea of Time. What is Time? Why does Time enjoy imprisoning me (and/or you)? Why must we always be chasing down Time?

Why am I wasting so much time on... Time?

The act of having to be updated 24/7 is a must, a need, a requirement. Updates easily fly their way in and out and all around in these faster-paced days. The way I see it, it's almost like a crime to not be updated on the cute antics of your best friend's pet dog or your aunt's trip to Guam. Yet, I relish in isolation. I crave for peace and quiet. To make all those happen, I forget all important dates to remember and jump off the cliff that life had ordered me to climb. I greet the surface of the ocean with a blue kiss, and sink down to the floor, muting away all of the noise, just leaving reality.

But not for long. Time is quick to pull me out of the ocean. It's as if Time is desperate to save me from solitude, listing off danger after danger had It truly lost me to the quiet. And here is foolish me, promising never again shall I do something so ridiculous. Time comforts me with a hard blow on the stomach --- what I missed, what I should've done, and what I must accomplish. I can sense my face  turning green in discomfort, so I turn my head away, and grudgingly allow Time to take the reins on my life.

See? I could never grasp Time. It has me captive, instead. It forces me to go sleepless for days, just to complete my daily quota of catching up to everything and everyone. Time warns me that falling off course is not an option.

I'm tired, and I'm done. I have to throw away Time from the throne It dulled and dirtied. And to do so, I have to be faster. I have to be more cunning, more unexpected.

I have to claim my shrinking force of life. Something that is not mine to claim.

Give Me A Sign, I Want To Believe

We all know that lying is very bad. That lying causes more trouble. That lying will "directly send you to hell". My parents condemn the very act. They never forget on reminding me that lying will bring no good to life, and I must never try to lie or hide anything from them. And I, being programmed to do so, nod and say yes.

I guess there is something wrong with my code because, despite all the warnings and reminders and the numerous do's and don'ts implanted in my ROM, I cannot execute what is expected of me.

'Don't lie'. Ha. I can't even remember when I uttered my first lie. I am terribly sorry for disobeying this one on an almost 24/7 basis. You call and ask for my whereabouts and almost automatically I answer with an "I'm only here at the dorm" when the truth is I am sipping a relaxing 16 oz. of ice-cold coffee at a 7-11 with one or two friends. You express your strong dislike for student organizations in university and I comfort you, saying that I won't join any of them don't worry, but honestly, I have just taken my org shirt out from the laundry. You fret over my physical health and remind me to get enough sleep and I say yes of course, whilst yawning into the back of my hand because it is my third day of having no sleep at all. I lie a lot, that's the truth.

'Don't hide anything from us'. Unlikely to be able to run said command. If I were to be open to my parents about everything that's going on in my life, about the decisions I have made and will be making, I am 500% positive that they will disagree with everything, and then POOF! The tables have turned, my life will be completely manned by my parents. I will have no say, because apparently my plans are unrealistic or impractical or selfish or shallow or just plain stupid.

Lying and hiding are two of my favorite habits. I don't have to explain anything nor worry whether or not the points I made got through people's heads. It's easier to put on a mask and say the letters 'o' and 'k'. People judge you less. They have no right to look down on you because you're functioning with whatever an "I'm okay; everything's fine" can ensure.

Because when you admit that you are far from being okay, there's a higher chance of getting scolded by your parents than receiving comfort. There will be more judging and criticizing than there will be supporting. More triggers than there are band-aids.

I lie about this flourishing garden of sadness inside me. I lie about enjoying my classes in college. I lie about taking my vitamins every day. I hide the fact that anxiety is holding me captive. I hide this strong desire of wanting to jump off a bridge.

Because I also want to believe that this is just a phase. A short-term effect of stress. I want to believe that there is more happiness in my life, that studying is more fun and interesting, that my overall health is at it's optimal state. I want to believe my very own lie that I am 'okay'.

I Have A Ring, And It's Not 24K Gold

There came a point in my life where waking up was insignificant. Pointless. Unimportant.
"Do I have to wake up?" I would ask myself. The rational answer was yes. So I did. I pushed my blanket away, and pulled myself up. I woke up, got dressed. I faced life.

Now, that seemingly once-in-a-lifetime point has multiplied. It's safe to say that it has become a circle. A cycle of my life that I can't escape.

Everyday, I struggle with waking up, with getting up and having to face the events of the day. Just thinking of responsibilities pain me. Deciding what to wear tires me out already. What more of walking from class to class, racking up my brains for an answer to question number three, keeping my cool when the professor calls on me?

When my classes for the day are all over, I crash on my bed. I stare up the bunk on top of mine, and watch a recap of my day. Complete crap. What did I expect. I am anxious about how this will greatly affect me in the future. What's worse though, is am more tired than I am anxious.

All these obligations suffocating me, I want them flying out the window. I don't want to think about deadlines, exams, and passing rates. I don't want to spend all-nighters memorizing definitions and terms and formulas. I want all of this to be over. I want to put a stop on my recurring failures. I want to walk away from this life and never come back again.

Sometimes I ask myself, What would have happened if I made that choice instead of this? Would I still be messed up? Would I still be unmotivated? Would I be passing with flying colors instead of failing? Would there have been a happier me?

Happiness seems so far away. It sits high at the summit; I am barely at the foot of the mountain. Even when I succumb to my desires of sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, in hopes of feeling better later, I wake up feeling void. Empty. Burned out. I am even disgusted at how the negativity is getting to me. Sure, I never was a huge talker, but I used to be optimistic. I used to dream big and achieved things. Now I'm just this empty shell sitting through lectures and never understanding a thing that was discussed. I couldn't even remember the last time I felt and lived in genuine happiness.

I can't really explain why I'm feeling so low for months. Why I'm hating myself more and more with each passing day. Why I can't accomplish school requirements without experiencing waves of anxiety. I don't know why I have become like this. Am I allowed to feel like this? Do I have valid reasons to be like this?

It's not laziness, that I am sure of. My laziness is opening up all my books and readying all pens and notebooks and starting to summarize Chapter 1 then leaving it to go on to social media. This circle I'm trapped in is darker and more ominous. It reminds me of the things I have to do, people I have to meet, but it never allows me. It closes in on me, reminding me over and over again with my obligations but never letting me go to work on them. When I finally find an exit, it's too late. My to-do list grows longer and never gets checked off, deadlines get nearer, anxiety builds up inside me, and my brain goes blank for days and days and days. And the circle comes back again.

I just want this emptiness to be gone. This anxiety to calm down and go away. I want my will to live to come back. I just want this ring of depression around me to get cut off and thrown away to the deepest, darkest part of the abyss.