littlekaty/planetails (flickr)

I wake up to the smell of fabric conditioner.

It’s a Friday, and Fridays are laundry days. I find out it’s 7:30AM. And then I remember that I set my alarm an hour earlier than the current time.

I quickly force myself to rouse and get up. Then I remind myself of the things that I have to accomplish before I leave at 10AM for school. Then rushes the remembrance of the feeling of panic, and anxiety that I had felt the night before. I again paste the image of the to-do list that I had typed down before I attempted to run through them in hopes that I could maybe accomplish them all before midnight so I could sleep without worries.

And then I remember that I failed to do so. I am taken back to the mindset I had the night before. I am taken back to the chagrin of “which one should I do first?” To the “how am I to finish all these in four hours tops?” To the “is it even possible to do so?”

So then I try. I try to visualize what I am to do later in the day. I try to give a rough execution of what I am supposed to look like during the presentation. I try to finish the dozen of pages of equations that I am to get through so I could submit them to my professor later in the day.

But then, as usual, I fail.

I clamor, and desperately attempt to do what I think I should do, but I fail. I suddenly lose grasp of my own sanity as I try to jumble all the things in my plate. Then I tell myself, “If I really feel like I can’t do this, I’ll ditch.”

And so I try. Once more, five times more. Only to scramble down to the conclusion that I can’t. Time is running. My positivity is draining. The world is spinning, and I just came to a halt.

I make a decision, then. I push through and ditch. I let the time run. I let the world spin like it always does. And I let myself rest.

I allow myself to just stand there, and breathe, and think, and try. I allow myself to try fixing my mind first before diving into the pile of work that I have.

And damn, did it feel great.

I know. I know that my mother doesn’t know, and that she will probably get angry when she knows. I know that I should not risk it. For in this chapter of this life, every single day should not be left unproductive, but I can’t.

I know within myself that I have to keep on running. I know that pausing even just for air is crucial. I know that if I let loose of even just one knot, I could fall down. I know that I’m being extremely selfish for pulling it off.

But I also know that if I allowed myself to run right now, I’d be staggering for breath. I’d be inhaling negativity, and even more stress, and pollution. I know that if I allowed myself to run right now, I’d be drowning it the midst of all my mind’s chaos, and I’ll be gone before I know it.


2 thoughts on “skipping

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