Getting out of bed this morning was the first struggle, the weight of the world pressing me down before I even opened my eyes. I tried to distract myself, diving into my studies, filling my head with information in an attempt to outrun the thoughts that threaten to consume me. But no matter how much I focus, the feeling is still there, lurking in the background.

The more I try to avoid it, the stronger it gets. It’s like entropy—my mind, once organized, is breaking down bit by bit, every distraction only a temporary fix. The weight of words, of memories, presses on me, making each step feel heavier than the last. I try to convince myself that I’m fine, that if I keep moving, I’ll be okay. But deep down, I know I’m not.

By the end of the day, I feel like I’ve barely made it through. I’ve kept my mind busy, but the silence between tasks is when the thoughts return with a vengeance. I’ve spent the whole day trying not to fall apart, but the pieces keep slipping away.