I Learned to Count Minutes, Not Memories
I used to think the worst part of school was the boredom. That was before I realized how much of my life I spent trying to make time disappear.
Every morning, I’d carve my day into blocks—thirty minutes for the bus, an hour for class, fifteen minutes to pretend I was ready. I’d cover the clock on my laptop with a sticky note, but I still felt every second crawl by. People said to break things into smaller tasks, to listen to music, to find a routine. I tried all of it. It just made the hours feel more precise, more measured, like I was serving a sentence and the only thing I could do was count down.
I stopped thinking about what I was learning. I started thinking about how to survive the next chunk of time. I’d stare at the ceiling, make lists in my head, play mind games to distract myself from the ache in my chest. Sometimes I’d text a friend, just to prove I was still here. Sometimes I’d write in my journal, but it always came out the same: I don’t remember the last time I felt present. I just remember waiting for it to be over.
#AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #TimeAnxiety #Education
