Every night at around midnight, I tell myself that I am tired. It’s time to go to bed now, Michelle. Try to be a healthy teenager for once and go to sleep at a godly hour and wake up before lunchtime. And every time I fail. It’s been three weeks now. The only anomalies during which I actually attempt to sleep before midnight and wake up at 7AM are days when I have to sit for papers.
Honestly, can you believe it? I’ve only had three papers? It feels like I’ve spent 500 years rotting in my room and some days it’s so hard to get out of bed. Some days more difficult than the others. And some days when you wake up feeling like you want to throw up and just the thought of doing laundry makes you cry and you’re stuck between not wanting to leave your room forever and not wanting to be in your room any longer. It’s fine though, nothing I can’t deal with. I’m really in no position to complain, because it’s a choice I made and I’m in the process of learning how to deal with the decisions I make even if it might turn out to be a wrong decision.
One evening, while crying into my phone to my mum and demanding her to “please make a decision for me” I thought: what constitutes a right or wrong decision? Between two decisions, can both of them be right decisions? Likewise, can they simultaneously be wrong decisions too? It felt like being caught in a crossfire; maybe the only right decision is for me to hide under my bed and never come out for meals or toilet breaks long enough so people will believe I’m not actually there anymore.