A couple of months ago I was counting the days until graduation. Now I am counting the days until I am allowed to go back.
Not to the same place, of course—part of the allure lies in this new destination being just that: new. I haven’t received my schedule yet, but I hope it also means being able to pursue subjects I’ve wanted to for years. Mostly it just means an end to what I’m doing now: I’m so tired, all the time, too tired to respond to friends’ texts or study everything I’ve been meaning to or set my alarm early for the morning runs I wanted so badly while I was still in school. I know full well that it’s all in my head, but these things seem nigh on impossible.
I am lost. I am OK. I bite all my nails to the quick and can’t bring myself to spend money, even a few dollars here and there to go out with friends. It’s a vicious circle—the less I spend, the fewer activities I do with them, the closer I am to feeling human again.
And the worst part is that it’s hardly difficult work! By all accounts I have no right to be complaining! Pulling 35 hours a week is hardly a death sentence—but I want to be honest about how I feel. So here I am. Staring down the barrel of an eight to nine hour shift often feels like there is no end in sight. I have to remind myself that, like all days past, eventually it will be over. The day, the month, the summer. There is an end. Sometimes it just seems very far away. ♦