It's two weeks from finals and
the state of okay
is laced with the toothiness of tiredness.
The sluggish movements we all make from not staying in bed long enough.
Something about snow coming
and it's stark dark and not even 4:30.
Slouching in all of Smith's couches,
I find myself
being smart enough to find a chair, hard and sturdy, instead
to keep awake.
Awake to do and think and express all these okay things keeping me awake.
The new status quo
is exhausting yourself from constantly producing and producing shit
and being wedged between
this feeling of mediocrity
and plain bad.
And it's not even 2 pm yet.
Am I even going to be awake enough to
produce a shitty coherent thought
at 2 pm?
Honestly.
The little stamina I have
is spinning
on absolute fear.
Of not finishing
not submitting
not writing and reading enough to
finish and submit.
How do we manage to freaking breathe?
And when I do, finally, do as my body does
and breathe,
I'm scared that I'm breathing for too long.
For laughing too much like we enjoy being crispy and burnt.
So cheers to today.
Another day when I tell my cute friends and my cute housemates
that I'm okay
only to proceed quickly with the word "fuck"
in a long exhale
the kind that communicates,
"I'm not okay at all. In fact, you probably knew that already. Maybe you're going through this too. Maybe we're both not alone in feeling this diluted version of 'okay.' Maybe we're too scared to map out everything we have to do, because if we think hard enough, that list starts to grow.
out of control."
Is what I'm going through right now
even okay?
I'm going to start answering people with
"It's great to see you."
Instead of "how are you?"
from now on.
Because I'd rather see people, see anyone,
than see myself
engulfed.
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