Not Perfect Night, Doomed Night -[BBANGSAZ AU]

1.) To Sleep or Not to Sleep?

Minji's POV:

I stared blankly at the half typed paragraph on the document, my mind was as empty as the white space glaring back at me from the screen. I had an airpod in my left air, but it wasn't playing any music. Ini fact, I wasn't even sure when I had put it in. It was just there, like an attempt to feel less alone in the silent void of my room, where the only sound was the soft hum of my MacBook's fan working overtime—probably because I hadn't shut it down in three days.

My eyes drifted to the corner of her screen. 11:50 PM. Ten minutes to go until I had to submit this monstrosity of an essay. I sighed, the kind of deep, soul-weary sigh that only someone who's spent the last six hours trying to wrangle 4,000 words out of their exhausted brain can produce. I cracked my knuckles—more out of habit than necessity—and began typing. Or at least, I was hitting the keys. Whether what I was writing made any sense was a problem for future Minji. Present Minji was just trying to reach the word count before her will to live reached zero.

I typed out a sentence about the socioeconomic impacts of industrialization, then immediately deleted it. Then typed it out again. Then deleted it again. This was my life now: an endless cycle of second-guessing everything I wrote. Why did I even choose this topic? Oh right, because the alternative was writing about the French Revolution, and after three years of history elective classes, I was pretty sure I could recite the guillotine's greatest hits in my sleep.

I glanced at the clock again. 12:00 AM. Done. Well, "done" was a generous term. I'd met the word count, which was close enough. I quickly attached the document to my submission portal and hit "Submit" with all the enthusiasm of a zombie clocking in for a shift at the graveyard. A notification pinged, confirming my submission. I'd done it. I'd finished. But somehow, I didn't feel any lighter.

Now, I was left with a classic late-night student dilemma: sleep or... well, anything but sleep. I considered sneaking in a workout, mostly because my gym crush, Jake, the tall guy with the messy red hair and the arms that looked like they could bench press a small car, might be there. On the other hand, the thought of dragging my already half-dead body onto a treadmill for the sole purpose of stalking someone I barely knew seemed kind of pathetic. But then again, I was also the same person who once fell asleep in class with my eyes open, which had led to a very awkward conversation with Professor Joo when he caught her staring at him for ten minutes straight.

I was sure about one thing though. Studying. Studying was definitely out of the question. I shuddered at the thought of Haerin, my study-aholic bestie, finding out that I'd skipped out on reviewing my notes. Haerin would lecture me about the importance of maintaining a rigorous study schedule, and I would nod along while mentally planning how to fake my own death to escape the conversation. So, studying was off the table.

That left two options: sleep or the gym.

Sleep was the sensible choice. I could get a couple of hours of shut-eye, recharge enough to at least function tomorrow, and maybe—just maybe—not feel like I'd been hit by a truck when I woke up. But then again, sleep never seemed to do much for me these days. I could sleep for two hours or ten, and I'd still wake up feeling like a malfunctioning Roomba—constantly bumping into things and struggling to complete even the most basic tasks.

The gym was tempting, though. Just an hour of walking on the treadmill wouldn't kill me, right? And if my crush happened to be there, well, that was just a bonus. A very attractive bonus. I could already imagine the scenario: I'd be on the treadmill, pretending to read some scholarly article on my phone while sneaking glances at him lifting weights like they were bags of marshmallows. Maybe their eyes would meet, and he'd smile at me. Or maybe he'd just stare at me like I was some kind of weirdo, because who works out at midnight while trying to read academic papers?

Still, the thought of seeing him was enough to tip the scales. Sleep could wait. I grabbed my gym bag, which was already packed because, of course, it was. I'd packed it last week with the intention of going every day. But, you know, things came up. Like the essay. And that anime I'd been binge-watching. And the spontaneous three-hour nap I'd accidentally taken yesterday afternoon.

As I laced up my sneakers, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Here I was, half-dead from exhaustion, about to go to the gym at midnight on the off chance that I might see a guy I was too scared to even talk to. But that was my life now: a never-ending cycle of poor decisions and questionable priorities. I'd survived this long on caffeine, sarcasm, and pure spite. What was one more terrible choice?

With a resigned sigh and a little smirk at the absurdity of it all, I headed out the door. Tomorrow was another day, and maybe—just maybe—I'd finally get, my life together. Or not. Probably not. But hey, at least I was consistent.