I shoot my eyes to the screen and wonder not for the first time why I’m doing this. Why I deliberately put myself through a task so difficult it’s brought me to tears on more than one occasion.
The buzz of my phone makes me jump. I’m more alert and aware now. But I ignore the notification because I refuse to give in to distractions, however tempting.
I breathe in and out. A slow inhale. Then I release my breath for a longer count. I don’t keep track of the seconds I’m inhaling or exhaling, but after a minute of doing this, I’m calmer. My heart rate slows ever so slightly.
A cup of water stands beside me. I reach for the handle, take a sip. Relish the cool liquid as it travels down my throat. I realize I drink when I’m at a loss for words. When I hope to clear my head so I can think more carefully.
Already I’m tempted to take another sip.
My desk lamp provides enough illumination to work by. The light casts shadows against my face.
On my right is a window. Through the slit of the curtains, I can see that it’s dark outside. But the night sky with millions of stars is a welcome sight.
I glance at all I have to do still. The tabs open in the web browser. The textbook open on my desk.
I used to want to grow up. To be an adult. To feel grown-up. To have more responsibilities. Now that’s the last thing I want.
So I channel my energy elsewhere in hopes that it’ll lead me some place better.
If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I know I’m wishing, but I’m also working towards a vision only I can see.