Fragile Little Things ✓

07 real

Indigo

I COULD’VE ADMITTED that my mental health was taking a turn for the worst. Or I could simply binge watch every single episode of Love Island 2019. Which was exactly what I did. The entire weekend.

Did this mean that I now had a ton of backlog on my assignments and studying that would only contribute more to my stress and probable acute depression? Absolutely.

Did this deter me from watching all fifty episodes and getting little to no sleep? Nope. Not at all.

I’d reached the scene where Curtis broke up with Amy, and actual tears started at the corners of my eyes. What the hell. This was just meant to be a stupid reality show you didn’t need three braincells to watch, and yet here I was making emotional connections with the people. None of these couples were real, anyway.

But then again, maybe my “reality detector” was broken, because I thought Kade and I were real. Turns out the only real thing was the fact that he had his tongue down another girl’s throat two days ago. I grabbed my pillow from the side of my bed, slamming it down on my face and holding it there as I proceeded to scream into it until my voice ran raw.

I wanted to get over him.

I needed to.

But I couldn’t.

It was an annoying paradox. The more I tried not to think about him, the more thoughts of him invaded my mind. And I hated it. God, I hated it.

I’d been this way for the longest time I could remember. I would always catch feelings way too fast. Hell, all a boy had to do was hold the door open for me and I was already planning the wedding. The feelings always came hard fast, but they left so torturously slow.

And with Kade…it was knowing that he’d always be there for me. Call it what you want, but it was nice knowing that there was one person in the world that would always be there for you, no matter what.

As expected, turned out getting little to no sleep for two days in a row didn’t fare well for campus on Monday. I was practically part of the Walking Dead cast when I walked into Bio 201, and Mae was quick to notice.

Her shoulder length hair was trimmed to perfection, pin-straight and perfectly unfrazzled. And with her light wash denim skirt paired with a crop top, she looked as put together as she always did. I couldn’t say the same for myself. I’d tied my hair into a tight bun at the nape of my neck to control the frizz.

“Um, no offense, love,” Mae started, passing me a cup of coffee, “But did you get hit by a bus on the way here?”

I accepted the cup gratefully, taking the time to stare down at my outfit selection for the day: a pair of denim overalls over an oversized black top. “I actually think I did a good job. Despite being half dead.”

“Oh, the outfit’s pretty.” Mae waved a dismissive hand. “I’m talking about the vibe. The eye bags and the general look of fatigue. I gave you two days to deal with the hangover, Indigo. Come on.”

I managed a smile, bringing the coffee cup to my lips. “I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours.”

Mae’s mouth hung open. “You’re exaggerating right? Tell me you’re just exaggerating.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Let me guess. You’ve completely lost it and took some molly?”

I laughed. “No drugs, only Love Island and existential crisis.”

“Okay, but you better hope that coffee is going to buy you, I don’t know, some life? Because we have dissections next and our group is going to flip out when they find out there’s more than one cadaver on our team.”