Once Every Fortnight I Exhale

|> IN

I can't get comfortable. I always feel on edge, anxious, unsettled. I'm blindfolded in front of a firing squad of archers who have drawn their bows and I'm just waiting. Every now and then someone on the squad coughs, shifts his weight from left to right, clears his throat. And every time I hear a noise I flinch. I tense my muscles. I hold my breath. But no arrow is ever fired. So I keep waiting.

I'm living minute to minute because I can't settle into a routine beyond going to class. I think once I read a book or watched a movie that said some people find this kind of existence exhilarating and liberating. I don't know who those people are. At best, I function in two-week periods, living and working for every other weekend. I get lost in that time (a fortnight is a long time, you know) so I put two countdowns on my Dashboard: one counting down to Christmas holidays, one counting down to the end of the school year/university. Turns out counting down the days makes time slow down. The only way to speed up time is to sleep more. Unfortunately, my insomnia and general aversion to going to sleep mean this is not a viable option for me.

Everyone keeps telling me I'll be fine. I know I'll be fine. I'm always fine. I've made it this far. But knowing I'll be fine doesn't negate the fact that I still have to do this. I have to live the next six months in this state of unrest, in this struggle against apathy. And so, there's only one thing left for me to do: leave a path of destruction in my restless wake.

Current location: London, ON - The University of Western Ontario

(Better wipe that smirk off your face, Sudbury, 'cause you're next. Get ready.)

I'll be fine. Yes. We'll all be fine.

<| OUT