The new year has officially kicked in, but if I'm honest, today felt like a tangled mix of highs, lows, and everything in between. It's past midnight now, the early hours of January 2nd, but I need to get this all out before I sleep.
Last night, or should I say early this morning, I barely slept. It was New Year's night—how could I? BGMI, 8 Ball Pool, and the endless Instagram reels kept me glued to my phone until 3:00 AM. It's such a strange thrill, scrolling through highlights of strangers' lives while living a blurry haze of my own. Finally, at 3:00 AM, I crashed.
But the world waits for no one. My brother called at 9:00 AM, jolting me awake. I was still groggy, so I went right back to bed, thinking I could squeeze in a few more precious minutes of sleep. Not long after, at 9:50 AM, another call came—this time from a friend who'd arrived at the hostel and needed me to pick him up. Reluctantly, I got up. It's strange how no amount of exhaustion can override the feeling of being needed by someone.
And then, 10:17 AM—another call. This one was from my faculty advisor. I didn't answer it. I knew, deep down, what it was about: the semester registration I hadn't completed yet. I couldn't deal with it. Avoidance felt easier in the moment. Instead, I let myself drift into a familiar escape, playing 8 Ball Pool until nearly 12:40 PM. Time has a way of disappearing when I'm playing games—as if it dissolves into the cracks between my focus and distraction.
Afterward, I decided I should at least get freshened up. The bathroom, though mundane, felt like the only place where I could pause and reset. At 12:50 PM, my father called. I instantly knew it wasn't going to be an easy conversation. And I was right—my faculty advisor had called him, unloading complaints about me not attending the department. To make matters worse, my Head of Department (HOD) had also joined in. My dad was disappointed, and though I could hear it in his voice, I chose to lie. "I've been going," I said. "No need to worry." I blamed the faculty for exaggerating. I don't know why lying felt so necessary at that moment—maybe it was the fear of facing his disappointment head-on.
After lunch in the hostel mess, I slipped back into my world of distractions. BGMI, 8 Ball Pool, and Netflix—this time, a series called Black Doves. It was comforting, a way to drown out the noise in my head. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me, and I napped at 4:00 PM, setting an alarm for 5:10 PM. I didn't even get to sleep through that window—at 4:40 PM, my parents called again. They wanted updates: "Did you go to the department? Did you talk to the faculty advisor?" Once more, I lied. It's strange how easy the words came. I hate that I'm becoming this person who's so accustomed to bending the truth.
After their call, I headed to the mess for snacks. They served anda chop and tea—simple yet comforting. The evening's plan was to play badminton at the indoor court. I got ready, looking forward to something physical to clear my mind. But just as I was about to leave, my mom called. She sounded tired, burdened. She told me about the critical glances and judgments her siblings were casting our family's way for not having money. Hearing her voice like that—so heavy and defeated—stung more than anything I'd heard all day.
In the same call, she asked if I could arrange 20,000 rupees from my friends. My chest tightened at her request, not because I didn't want to help, but because of the weight it carried. "I'll ask," I said, though I wasn't sure how or from whom. After 45 minutes of talking with her, I didn't have it in me to play badminton anymore. I returned to my room and messaged a friend, asking if he could lend me the money. His response was swift: "No, I don't have it."
At 8:30 PM, just as I was about to head for dinner, my mom called again. "Any luck?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope. I told her the truth this time—my friend couldn't help. She asked if I could try asking someone else. I promised her I'd do my best. Dinner was a blur; I couldn't even tell you what I ate. My mind was too preoccupied with finding a solution.
After dinner, I dove into BGMI again, my usual coping mechanism. Between matches, I called and messaged more friends, hoping someone could come through. Finally, one friend agreed. Relief washed over me as I transferred the borrowed 20,000 rupees to my brother. Tomorrow's the 2nd, and the EMIs on our accounts will be due. At least that part of the puzzle is handled.
The night ended with another round of BGMI, this time with a friend, while Orange is the New Black played on Netflix in the background. Now it's 12:19 AM on January 2nd, and here I am, writing this.
Today felt like a tug-of-war between escape and reality. The games, the shows, the lies—they all feel like shields I'm using to protect myself. But as I reflect on everything, I realize how heavy those shields are becoming. I'm not proud of lying to my parents, but I'm scared of their disappointment. I'm not proud of neglecting my responsibilities, but I'm overwhelmed by them. I'm not proud of borrowing money, but I'd do anything to ease the burden on my mom's shoulders, even just a little.
The new year's supposed to symbolize a fresh start, but here I am, already tangled in the same messes. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe tomorrow I'll start to face things instead of avoiding them. Maybe tomorrow I'll take a step toward becoming the person I want to be. Or maybe tomorrow will be another day of shields and distractions. For now, though, I just need to sleep. Goodnight.