I've been desperately trying to forget the events of the past week, but no matter how hard I try, they linger in my mind like an unwelcome guest. They gnaw at me, a constant reminder turning my once serene days into a whirlwind of frustration. I find myself growling at my cluttered bookshelves, the flickering television screen, the constant notifications from my phone, and even at my loyal dog, Pretty. Each escaping sigh feels like an embodiment of my inability to shake off these unsettling memories. Why am I doomed to overthink everything? The mental exhaustion is taking its toll, making me feel trapped in a cycle of incessant worry.
With a surge of determination, I rip the duvet off my body, the soft fabric sliding away as I move toward the bathroom. It's been a difficult morning, and this is my second shower, yet all my efforts to wash away the emotional stains of the past feel futile. As I stand underneath the warm cascade of water, the steam swirling around me, a moment of calm washes over me, albeit briefly. Just as I'm starting to feel a bit renewed, my phone rings, its sharp tone cutting through the soothing sounds of the shower.
I haphazardly throw a robe over my wet body, the fluffy fabric feeling oddly comforting, and shuffle toward the vanity table where I had carelessly tossed my phone. I swipe the screen, answering the call with a forced cheerfulness.
"Hey, what's up?" I ask, my voice attempting to convey a lightheartedness I don't truly feel.
"Not much, you?" My best friend This asks.
"I'm great," I lie through gritted teeth, knowing full well that the truth is far from it.
"You do know Eve is throwing a party today, right?" she says, her excitement palpable through the phone.
"I wasn't informed about this. When is it?" My curiosity piques, even as I feel a pang of guilt about missing another event.
"Didn't you check your phone? The party is just two hours from now! Please don't tell me you can't make it again. Not again." Thia replies, disappointment thick in her voice.
"I haven't touched my phone in a while, Thia. I promise I'm not lying. I'm sorry to bail on you again, but I genuinely need some time to myself. Please bear with me," I plead, hoping she understands.
"I might not ask again, you know," she warns, the frustration clear.
"By the way, have you seen Liam's Insta post?"
"No, why?" I ask, intrigued despite my looming sense of dread.
"Girl, that guy is smoking hot. I mean, seriously! No wonder you've had your eyes on him since high school. He just posted this shirtless pic, and trust me, I was drooling!" she gushes, her voice turning dreamy.
"But you said he's not your type, though?" I remind her, not letting her irony go unnoticed.
"He's still not my type, but that doesn't mean a girl can't appreciate some fine abs," she laughs lightly, breaking some of the tension.
"You do realize you just got into a relationship, right? Let me remind you," I say, smirking through the phone.
"Oops! I forgot, hehe," she giggles, the light atmosphere returning momentarily.
"We can talk about him next month because I'm sure you'll be single by then," I tease, poking at her just a little.
"What are you trying to insinuate? Are you saying I'm a playgirl?" her voice jumps back into mock seriousness.
"No, that's not what I'm trying to say. I genuinely think you're not, but let's be real, relationships like this tend to last, what, two months tops?" I chuckle, enjoying our banter.
"Ouch! That hurts," she half-whines, clearly pretending to be offended.
"I'm sorry that it does, lol," I reply, chuckling at her feigned hurt.
"I have to get dressed for the party. See ya," she says briskly, a hint of reluctance in her voice.
"Okay, our project is due next month. I hope you're working on it already?" I remind her that I always need to maintain a sense of responsibility for our tasks.
"I'll see what I can do," she promises, and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.
"As usual, bye girl."
"Bye to you too." With that, the call ends, leaving me wrapped up in a silence that feels heavy.
The weather outside is unforgivingly cold, and it makes my bed seem even more inviting, a soft cocoon of warmth. I remind myself I need to be productive and get some things done before surrendering to a second round of sleep. With a sigh, I shuffle into the laundry room, pulling the laundry basket closer as if it were a life raft in my sea of chaos. I begin to fold the clean clothes piled high, feeling the familiar fabric between my fingers. But after folding seven items, I give up, irritation bubbling up within me. It looks so simple when other people do it; I don't understand why it's so hard for me.
Frustrated, I push the laundry basket away from me and pick up the already folded clothes, placing them on a neat shelf. With a sense of accomplishment that quickly evaporates, I make my way back to my bedroom. Just as I start walking toward my bed, Pretty, my ever-energetic dog, begins to run circles around my legs, ready for her breakfast.
"Come on, Pretty. Let's go," I say, my voice softening as I make my way to the kitchen. She follows closely behind, her tail wagging wildly. I pour some kibbles into her plate and fill her water bowl to the brim. Pretty has this adorable yet alarming habit of scarfing down her food as if she were in some sort of competition. Despite multiple visits to the vet, none of their suggestions seem to curb her frantic eating.
Once Pretty is happily munching away, I feel an overwhelming wave of exhaustion wash over me. The cold weather outside beckons with its inviting chill, and I can't resist the urge to curl back up under my blankets for just a little while longer.