Xaynab Ché
"Love is a figment of our imagination; becoming whatever we wish it to be. We customized our feelings to control love, resembling a wind being tossed about whichever way it suits us. Love is a game for the fittest, if you are weak at heart it will destroy you, it will blemish your soul." --Micheline Jean Louis
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Sometimes I don't think that I am guaranteed true happiness. I bask in the idea of it, here and there but never fully indulge in it. I just want a form of happiness that comes with no conditions, no worries, pure joy brewing inside of me. Yet life may not allow that for me, because I am me.
I sat my journal back on the nightstand beside my bed and took a drink of the warm glass of water that sat next to it.
"Another day, another struggle," I yawned and mumbled before getting out of bed.
I made my queen size bed before grabbing my yoga mat and heading to the living room. Opening the large floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched as the rain fell down upon the city. Laying the mat on the floor in front of the window, I started stretching and watched as the city began to wake up.
After my short yoga session and prayer that I do every morning, I set a kettle full of hot water on the stove before going back into my room to get ready for a day full of classes. The spring semester had just started. Today was Monday, which meant that on my schedule I had to attend French 101, Math 101, and Sociology 334. It wasn't going to classes that had me upset, I just dreaded the idea of going places feeling like this, especially on the first day back. Anxiety ate me up daily, a constant battle that I had to fight every morning. Some days are worse than others and today was one of those days. Sometimes I don't understand myself, my anxiety wasn't of people but more-so of my life itself.. it's hard to explain because I myself do not understand it.
After I completed my daily hygiene, I chose an outfit for the day. All black seemed to match my mood today, so I went with an all-black Essentials tracksuit and the mineral blue Yeezy's foam runners. My hair was in some long knotless braids that I got done yesterday, but since it was raining I threw on a black trucker hat. My lashes were still fresh from last week's appointment, I just put on lip gloss. Grabbing my Macbook, Ipad, apple pencil, and glasses, I stuffed them into the black Marc Jacobs tote bag before walking out of my room.
The kettle was now screaming at me to be taken off the stove, so I put two tea bags in my mug and poured the boiling water on it. While letting that steep, I made some avocado toast for breakfast. As I was getting carried away in my thoughts about how the day was going to go, my phone rang.
"My love," I answered as a genuine smile spread across my lips.
"Good morning, babeh." She replied with a strong Liberian accent through the Messenger video chat. "La watin you eating?"
"Avocado toast. What's up? you ok?" My mother calls every day, sometimes not as early but every day. She was only an hour's drive away from me, yet she made it seem like I was at a university that was out of the country.
"O, that's too light. Breakfast needs to be heavy. You going to school?"
"Yeah, my first class is at 11, so I'm about to be on my way." I looked at the time, it was 10:25 am, I had some time before having to engage in the 13-minute walk to campus. After adding honey to my tea, I sat down at the kitchen island and began to eat. "How's everybody?"
"Dey goodt. Everybody here. Your sister dropped the kids to school before going to work, your father is sleeping and your grandmother is at work. How you feeling?"
"I'm good mommy. I woke up a little under the weather, but I'm okay. What are you doing up so early? you on your machine?" My mother got sick some years back, my sophomore year in high school, she was in and out of hospitals. Doing tests and surgeries, until they finally decided to put her on dialysis to see how she would respond. So far, so good.
