my heart is as heavy as my schoolbag and the guilt from yet-to-be-forged test papers. these days slipping into my depression is as easy as sleeping into my problems. look on the bright side they say, so i do. my australian friend sleeps six hours on a regular basis but here in singapore i sleep four hours. (three in the morning and one in lectures because my eyes are weighed down by the weariness bore from days of juggling a test every other day. my stomach churns like the sea deranged, slosh slosh slosh and i have to press my lips together lest oceans pour out of my eyes and rivers up my parched throat.) dreaming is a foreign concept but when i do i see quiet, hear the way the sky is blue and the grass, green, and i can feel the sweetness in the air and taste the joy in my heart.
when i come to, my pillow is damp.
i plunge headfirst into schoolwork.
house so empty, need a centrepiece, so i shove a whole goddamn furniture store down my throat.
- mondays are never really over until you’ve hit your daily quota of two anxiety attacks, one in the morning when the bile threatens to burn a hole up your throat, or somewhere at 1922 when one text is all it takes to release the floodgates that have been pounding against your eyes all day.
- mondays are never really over until the one minute between 2359 and 0000 steals away in silence.
- mondays are the antithesis of the paradise god placed on earth. on the contrary, mondays are wormholes to hell. move aside, teleporters, mondays exist.
- mondays are 48 hours long.
- mondays are designed to make me feel like the weight of the world lies on my shoulders. there is a gnawing emptiness in my heart, and no amount of whispered encouragement motivational quotes and black coffee can fill it up. who knew that the lack of existence would make me hypersensitive to the presence of unfair teachers unkind countrymen insensitive classmates?
monday medicine: press me against the wall and whisper ‘it’ll be fine’s into the shell of my ear