"2:56am" by Dianna V

 

 

There is nothing in particular that has affected me greatly in my life, only the usual ups and downs throughout. As I cried for not wanting to go to school during kindergarten, unable to leave my mother due to the immense attachment, as I transitioned to middle school and had to socialize, and finally as I progressed to high school having to leave my dear friends. There was nothing wrong mentally per se, but I had noticed myself slowly slipping away as the years had passed. It is the typical stress from the amount of rigorous classes I was taking, nothing big - though, that is what I had always said.

 

Each day felt more tiring than before. Each day had felt increasingly more repetitive than the previous. I had enveloped myself so in school, so I chose to ignore myself, oddly enough. I hadn’t thought much of it regardless, and I didn’t think those around me would notice anything at all due to my decision of neglecting. Of course, the year 2020 had not alleviated this situation in the slightest. For most, it was presumably the most strenuous and burdensome. The absence of friends, the increase in schoolwork, the state of isolation all contributed to further numbness. As stated, I had not thought it was noticeable due to my choice of disregarding, and I had believed it remained in that circumstance.

 

The day I turned seventeen, I had celebrated it with a small party, no more than ten people occupying my house. It was enjoyable, but the constant thought of wanting to leave, wanting to be in my bed and sleep the night away had surrounded my mind. The feeling of exhaustion had consumed me. Though, I had greatly relished the receiving of gifts (I, for one, absolutely adore the materialistic things). My mom had given me a gift, along with a card including a written message, the last words stating ​“We miss your smile, mija.”​Again, I had not thought any of it was noticeable.

 

The days, weeks, and months had progressed, with each one remaining monotonous to the fullest. Needless to say that was not to persist. My family had been notified of my aunt’s infection of coronavirus. As a result of a few family members having already been infected with the virus and recovered, we also thought she would recover. That was not the case whatsoever, unfortunately. Two months had progressed, with my grandma’s additional infection of the virus as well, and there was no sign of improvement in any of them. My aunt being the first to go was disheartening. The thought of not being able to see her again, never feeling welcome in the warm house of hers as I visited Mexico, never being able to taste her exceedingly spicy chilaquiles again. My dad in a feeling of melancholy, my mom crying, my siblings and I further isolating ourselves - I had much preferred the monotonous and repetitive days over this. The passing of my grandma had been not long after my aunt. This one definitely had hurt the most as I would never hear her heartfelt singing as she sang her favorite song, the one she would really only remember, now being one I adore the most. My dad had now left to Mexico for the second time, as the further division of my family had proceeded. We never took deaths that well.

 

The wearisome days had returned, and my taking in distractions had increased. Whether it was being deeply engaged in social media, my continuous undivided attention to shows, or my

focus in reading. I had exceptionally longed for the days where I had smiled often, just as my mother said. I had missed the feeling of excitement when talking about something I adored, whether it was the moon, the stars, or the night sky. I had missed the happy girl filled with exhilaration as I saw the ones I loved. The girl who agreed to go anywhere for the enjoyment and company of others. Now, as I stay in my covers, with the overbearing thought of my siblings explaining “Dianna we only see you twice a day”. Or when they ask, “how is that whenever I go into your room you’re always sleeping?” To answer the question, it is the continuous restlessness I feel, despite the three hour naps with the additional nine hours of sleep per night. Or when they ask “why do you forget everything” as if it is expected of me to remember.

 

As I write this at 2:56am, I ask, why does everything have to be so draining?