The Dorm

Chapter Two

Fuck. This. Class. Dear. Fucking. LORD!

It took every damn muscle in my body to keep myself from jamming my pencil into my eye. "Real Property". One of the hardest and most boring classes, alongside "Contracts". Those two classes can shove a cactus up their- um, never mind.

Mornings and I don't mix, and I'd been up since 6. By the end of class (11), I was ready to throw myself off of the bridge that went from the city to Hometown. My day had only just started and I was ready for it to be over. Ugh. I guess I should get to the library to keep working on my essay. I only have another few days after all and I still have a lot of writing to do. Crap, I still have some research I need done. Let's see... "World History" starts at 3... so I have four hours to work.

*Gurgle*

And get food.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. A small smile tugged at my lips.

Noey Doey: "Morning baby! I hope you remembered to eat! Please try to relax until your next class. I know how much you hate Real Property. At least take twenty minutes to stretch. For me? Love you! <3"

My cheeks tingled with warmth. Shes so good to me. God, I'm so lucky.

Do I have time to stretch? I know I should for my physical and mental health, but... I really need to work on my essay...

Ok. I'll try to finish my draft and then do some yoga.

*Growl*

After I eat.

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Leftover spaghetti. Nothing can beat it. You can say what you will but I know I'm right. And a nice, cold glass of milk to go with it? Ohhhhh yes.

Eh, what's the point in going all the way to the library just to come back here if I plan on doing yoga? Might as well just stay here.

So that's how I sat down at my desk, just over 12 hours after I'd slammed my head on it, to continue working on the same garbage as before. But with food and fresh eyes, it wasn't too long before I was knocking it out.

Fun fact. I can type 73 words per minute. So finishing a super rough draft, and I mean SUPER, took me just about an hour. Still lots of work to be done, but at least I got that done. And I still have two hours before history. Damn, I can fit in an hour long yoga workout and still have time to get class!

I slipped in my earbuds. My favorite workout playlist, a mix of songs by The RottyDolls, started playing as I put on a silent yoga video to stretch alongside.

Honestly, I always forget how much I love yoga until I'm doing it. The way it stretches out my muscles and relieves the pain in my back... It is the main thing that gets me through the week whenever I have the time to do it. All my stress seems to find itself in my back and shoulders. I swear to god, I literally have the back pain of a 60 year old man.

The minutes just slipped by as I focused on breathing, stretching, not singing along because that would waste breath, balance... The video ended before I knew it. "Goddamn Susie," I muttered to myself, "you really need to stop letting yourself go into auto pilot. One of these days you aren't going to come out of it. And that can be called a 'depressive episode,' my friend."

Judge me all you fucking want. I love talking to myself. It's like having an imaginary friend, but for grownups. Sometimes I pretend I'm talking to Noelle. It's harder to make fun of myself if I'm pretending to be my girlfriend because I know she wouldn't say those things. It's something my therapist taught me. Plus, it can help to talk things out when I'm frustrated and Noelle isn't home, especially since I can only afford to see my therapist once a month.