Dear Diary
I wake up with a warm kiss of sunshine on my face, my blinds left wide open from the sunset the day before. I sigh at the thought of completing another day. Today is going to be a good day. All you need to do is get out of bed. I tell myself this everyday.
Yet the hour passes, and I have not gotten out of bed. I mindlessly scroll through my phone - first the news, then Twitter, then Instagram and finally, TikTok. I stopped checking my email in the morning because I found it delayed my process of getting out of bed.
I put on whatever show I am rewatching as my cat eventually cries out of hunger. For approximately 30 minutes, I am reminded of my responsibilities to the world and specifically to Salem, whom I decided to raise only a few months ago. I feed him and change his water bowl. I watch him eat with joy and play with him a bit.
For 30 minutes, I am normal. I use the bathroom, I wash my face, and I put my contacts on. Today is going to be different, Alyson! You have a lot of work to do, and you’ve got nothing but time. I look at the time. 11:06 a.m. Well I’ve missed six minutes of my class. I might as well not show up to it.
The persuasive pull of my bed forces me back in. It’s one of those days where I tell myself I am taking a break from classes because they are too stressful, only to be stressed out the entirety of the day after because of my missing assignments.
Hours pass and I watch as the day slowly turns into the afternoon. I take a nap. I watch half a season of Gilmore Girls. I finally decide to get up for a few minutes. I head to the kitchen and make a microwavable mac and cheese. I eat and head back to my room.
As the sun begins to set, I look out of my window to the apartments across my view. The green of the building meshes with the pink and yellow of the sky. It’s a myriad of memories of childhood colors and innocent youth. It’s a pitcher of freshly-made lemonade on a neighbourhood picnic day. It’s a reminder of what is no longer here. It’s admirable enough to where I wish I were a painter to capture it’s true essence.
I can hear my roommates outside in the kitchen. They are making dinner and doing homework. I want to participate. I want to be a functioning member of society. And just when I think I have enough motivation to do so, my body freezes. I can’t.
I don’t know when it started. Maybe it started when I was in elementary school, when I spent my summers inside and hours of me staring at the ceiling passed. Maybe it started when I was 12 and crying in my bed for hours at a time with no real reason. Maybe it started during my first year of high school where I let a boy break my heart. Maybe it started during the year where I would stay up until 7 a.m. and sleep in until 2 p.m. just because I had the freedom to do so.
Or maybe it never started. Maybe this feeling of nothingness has latched onto my soul, my personality, from the minute I was conceived. Through the good days and the good years, this feeling of void has slithered itself slowly into my mind. And as the current year of my life has progressed, it has continued to come out more and more.
I find myself staring at my overpriced Starry Night tapestry, and I remind myself of the history of the painting. Van Gogh painted it during his time at Saint-Paul-de-Mausole asylum. For an entire year, he worked on his art while also trying to seek help for his mental illnesses.
And I sit across from the tapestry and think. I think about how in the past year I have done nothing but fail -- fail classes I lost motivation for, fail at creating anything meaningful, fail at being a good sister and daughter.
But then I find myself thinking about the things I know I have not failed at. I have not failed in giving a proper and warm home to my adopted cat. I have not failed in being a good friend when the time is right. I have not failed in putting my priorities ahead of anyone else's.
And so I think about the things that are to come in my life. A lifetime of adventures and memories with people I have not met. I go to bed knowing that even if today was not a good day, tomorrow has the possibility of being one of the best days of my life.