The seconds behind my ‘Fashionably Late’

It’s a beautiful day today. The sun’s high, the air’s fresh, the sky a beautiful shade of blue. I need to get to work by 10 and for the first time, I could actually make it. Every thing has been fitting perfectly today like the pieces of a puzzle and I have never felt better. Today is going to be an amazing day. 

It’s 9:15 on the clock. It takes me 15 minutes to reach my workplace. I got enough time. I pick up my phone, start scrolling and lie down on my bed fully dressed. I scroll and scroll and scroll. By now, I don’t even know what I am looking at, just endless scrolling, in hopes that these posts of random people would fill the hole that was slowly widening up in my chest. But it doesn’t. The hole keeps widening and widening and widening. Amazing how things always wind up in the exact opposite direction of how you intend them to be.

I look up, 9:35, I can still make it. The endless scrolling isn’t helping so I just turn up the music, curl up in a ball and hold my chest tight, anything to stop that void trying to swallow me whole. And I cry. Not cry exactly but gentle sobs, a hopeless effort to wash it all away for even tears seem to betray me at times like these.

9:45. I pull myself up, takes every last drop of energy within me but I pull myself up, look in the mirror, fix myself up, plaster a smile on my face and leave for work. I speed on my way, maybe the wind will blow it away. I reach work, take out my phone, check the time, 10:05. Well, late again.

He gives me anxiety and I don’t know why.

I see him twice a week. Each time for only those two hours when he is in front of me, speaking to me words of knowledge, most of which just pass right over my head. After and before those two hours, it’s like he does not even exist, those two hours feeling like just a figment of my imagination.

His appearance whether in front of the white board looking completely clueless as to the effects he has on my mind and body or in a distant corner of my never resting brain puts in motion a number of physiological reactions I have no control over. My legs feel heavier making it so much harder to move which is followed by a burning pit in my chest, the hole feeling like it’s widening by the second. I feel light-headed, maybe because in his presence I forget how to breathe, my body just waiting for the signal to leave everything and collapse. But I am calm on the exterior, my face never giving up even the slightest of hints as to the battle unfolding inside. Nonetheless, all this leads to one inevitable situation, one which even my years and years of experience with anxiety couldn’t hide: A complete and utter loss of words, an inability to speak.

Even with symptoms so clear, one thing still remains shrouded in mystery: The reason behind the reason. Even my best two options could not justify this situation because love, love has made me lightheaded but this lightheadedness was a result of too much blood rushing to my head, leading to traces of a subtle blush, too difficult to notice on my dark skin. Because fear, fear has dug a deep hole in my chest but this hole has suffocated me to the brink of death and thrown me in a frenzy of hyperventilation.

This, however, is different. His presence makes me forget how to breathe but does not suffocate me almost feeling like love. His presence makes the blood rush out of my face almost feeling like fear. A feeling whose existence I’ve started to question, the reactions feeling almost forced. Guess this ‘almost’ will be a problem even I won’t be able to solve.

What Caffeine Does to Me and Why I Still Depend on It.

It’s 12:30 A.M. I just finished my due work, set my alarm and now can snuggle into my warm bed. Tired, I fall on the bed in hopes of drifting off to sleep. It was 1:30 A.M. when the slightest traces of sleep finally decided to pay me a visit.

I wake up to a faint sound of tic-tic. Another cockroach. Not actually scared of them but not a big fan of catching them or hacking them to death either. So it took me around 5 minutes to go back to sleep again. I checked the clock, force of habit, 2:30 A.M. Exact one hour differences, coincidence?

That’s when the pain started. It wasn’t like the usual pain for it didn’t hurt at all. At all. I just felt empty. Like a few organs of my body had been taken out. I felt light yet extremely heavy for I couldn’t fathom whatever it was that was happening to my body. I could walk, I could see, my balance was fine yet something was missing, something huge, something I couldn’t put a finger on.

It’s 3:30 A.M. I feel better but am still unable to sleep. This might go on for a while I guess. Maybe this will add on to the list of countless other sleepless nights.

The effect of caffeine hasn’t always been this way on me. There was a time when I drank coffee just for the taste of it. Café Mocha during winters, Iced Mocha during summer. Well, I just love chocolate *insert nervous emoji*. But it hasn’t been the same lately. This dependancy has moved just a step further from a mere liking, it has become a need, one I cannot do without.
Or maybe I can. Maybe it’s just that the fight will be harder, more difficult without it and maybe it’s the realization of having the slightest chance of losing that I chose the easier path. But I guess easy paths do not come without consequences. It’s just that this time, the consequences came as physical blows rather than emotional ones.
Surely, I’ve made promises to myself about this one being the last batch, that I’ll be stronger from tomorrow, that I will leave and never look back. But the thing about dependancy? It’s not as easy to leave behind as it feels. A habit etched into the deep, an unforgettable memory.

The first rays of the early morning light shine through my curtains. 6:13 A.M. Ahh, the coincidences did come to an end. Another day to live, another battle to fight. Guess it isn’t my time to die yet.