A Random Morning: Facing the Silent Trials of a New Day

Why does my lower back feel like it might crumble any second? Is my head floating or frozen? My right earlobe is sore and begging for mercy, crushed under the weight of half my skull. I don’t want to open my eyes—the light feels like it might attack me. Sometimes, even with my eyes closed, I swear I see bright flashes burning my retinas. When I finally open them, I see a blurry, clouded version of the southern side of my room. I hate starting my day in a haze. My glasses are way out of reach, and I can’t shift enough to grab them. I curl my toes, just to feel some movement.

My mind is buzzing with scattered thoughts, none sticking around for long. I move my head ever so slightly, testing each direction like a scoop searching for the perfect bit of ice cream. After what feels like an eternity, my ear pops back to normal, and the pain disappears. I need to know the time. The top half of my body jolts to life while the bottom half stays limp and confused. I reach for my glasses and pick up my phone. It lights up, ready to bombard me with a flood of information.

My mouth tastes like a forgotten piece of blotting paper. My skin feels dry and dusty, like an old leaf. My hair? A forgotten bird’s nest. I check the global equity markets, currency rates, commodities, and bond yields. The world seems stable, so my world should be too, right? I stretch my legs and arms, hearing a series of pops that break the silence. The room smells stale, like potato peels left too long. The air feels lost and a little sad. Not every day, but today it does. I check my messages and the usual social media updates.

We’re all living in a world of giant delusions.

Life throws constant jabs at us with sugary promises. I stand up and stare at the wall in front of my bed. The paint looks almost fresh and cheerful, even though it’s a deep shade of grey. My bookshelf catches my eye, and I feel a bit of comfort knowing those old friends are there for me. I open the window, letting the fresh air wash over me. It smells like dry wood, clean laundry, and maybe a hint of clouds. I fire up my Bluetooth speaker and pull up Spotify.

Deciding what music I want is always a mini mental workout. Raga, rock, rap—sometimes a Carnatic song or the latest pop hit. My thoughts drift to what kept my mind busy as I slept last night: the realization of having made some poor life choices right after college. I shouldn’t have married, not even in the circumstances destiny threw at me. I believe I traveled through other dimensions in my dream, as my mind feels stuck on the theme of marriage and gloom. The need to use the restroom suddenly hits, as if out of nowhere. The brain is a funny, automatic thing.

I get up, ready to face whatever this day throws at me. I let the music play but quickly find the song sloppy, the hidden cracks in the beat and tired lyrics. I switch tracks, maybe even genres. I start making a mental list of what the day holds. I feel a little like a warrior, worn out from endless battles but still here, still standing.

I could never understand the basis of life’s grim ordeals. Life can be so biased, so unforgiving, so testing. I feel a bit sorry for myself, but then, I can’t help but love who I am. I feel the need to comfort myself. If I stay in this mood any longer, I’ll start feeling a heaviness in my chest, and I don’t want that. I open my closet, determined to wear something that’ll give me a little boost. I sift through my clothes and pick out something that brightens me up a bit. I step into the restroom. The day has begun.