When the Leaves Fall | ✓

h y p o p h r e n i a

h y p o p h r e n i a

(n.) a feeling of sadness seemingly without cause

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When the world pushes down on me, I push back. But when the world is soft, and silent, and just suggests to me gently that I am not enough, I believe it because the message was delivered so kindly.

Today is one of those weeks when I am buried under the weight of a world that doesn't make room for me. Nothing is truly wrong: no one is dying, nothing is worth crying about, there is no catastrophe lurking around the corner. Yet, at the same moment, nothing is truly good. There is a regularity that has overstepped comforting and boring into monotonous. I am stuck here, I feel, and there is nothing so bad that I strain against it; but when I fall into bed at night, I squeeze my eyes shut and feel a wish in my heart that I don't know how to enunciate. 

Sometimes this mode of proceeding is slipped into so subtly I don't even realize I am there until something slaps me awake. It's funny; humans need to be constantly reminded that there is more to this life than bare living. It's almost as if we were not truly made for this earth, that's how easily our souls find dissatisfaction in it.

The fortunate thing is: we always get that wake up slap.

When you get to this place of dreaded emptiness, you stop caring. The first aspect of my self care to go is always fashion. It is much easier to get by in sweatpants and the same Metallica hoodie I've had since middle school, when liking a rock band like Metallica equivocated you to some sort of rebel. Sometimes I exchanged the sweatpants for leggings, and the shirt under my jacket was changed from day-to-day — but that wasn't detectable, because the Metallica hoodie stayed the same, just like a stuffed animal the comforted a child. 

Few people actually care what you wear to college. You're there to get through your classes, and then you leave. It's simple. It's much simpler than high school, and I'm grateful I can escape with being a slob when I want to. 

It's even better that I managed to make casual friends even while looking like the garbage disposal regurgitated me.

I shared two subsequent classes with Alan and thus, we found ourselves walking along the same pathway and sitting together in the latter class. He was an effervescent boy who veered toward nerd more than traditionally cool, but another great thing about college was that — even if this distinction was noticed — no one cared. We were too concerned about what would be on the next exam.

Our conversations followed the random topics of two people who knew each other well enough to talk easily, but not well enough to talk about everything. One day it was about the new Super Mario game. The next day it was about how we fix our screwed up sleeping schedules.

Most people in college seemed to have a painfully irregular sleeping schedule.

But one day it was about Disney. Despite my preteen determination to be a rebel, I still had the love of Mickey Mouse in my heart, and I burst out, "I love Disney!" with raw enthusiasm, even bouncing upon my feet.

Alan looked at me as we were almost to the classroom and grinned, swinging his briefcase-style book bag. "You know you're adorable, right?"

I managed to force out a "thank you," but internally I froze. What? WHAT?! 

I couldn't help the innocent rush of pleasure at receiving a compliment. Briefly, I wondered if it meant something romantic, but I quickly brushed it aside. We weren't even close to those boundaries. Besides, I was too much of a physical hot mess to be called adorable. 

No, what Alan had meant was my personality. He called who I was adorable.

It was small, and it was simple. It took 5 words and a little over one second.

But as I veered into government class and settled my backpack down on my regular seat, I chewed on my lip to prevent my smile.

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based on true events