The Definition of Time

Chapter 5

You lit a fire within my soul
but you were not there to quench it
when it threatened to burn me alive. 

November 18, 2013

No matter how many sips I take of my chai latte, I still feel like a bulldozer has rolled over me at least 100 times. It's November and to say that I'm exhausted would be a gross understatement. Jordan, my roommate, and I have been holed up in a corner of Regent's student lounge for going on six hours. She's a Bio major and is working as a Teaching Assistant for one of her professors, so she has a binder full of pictures and statistics from some experiment they're conducting on some reptiles in the lab.

I avoid looking in that binder at all costs.

I, meanwhile, am working on a ten page research paper for my linguistics prof. I'm on page four, but I've rewritten the introduction at least 13 times today. My brain is as fried as the omelette Jordan left on our hall's kitchen stove for 45 minutes. I haven't showered in days, and it shows. Or I should say, smells. I'm wearing a t-shirt, black sweatpants and slippers. Slippers. In public. I'd be humiliated if I wasn't so stressed.

I slam my forehead onto my keyboard, ignoring the insistent beeping my laptop makes in response.

"I quit," I moan.

Jordan laughs at me, "What happened to all those straight As you were gonna get?"

I cover my face with my hands and groan noncomitally. I might be willing to sacrifice those As for a few weeks of uninterrupted sleep.

Jordan bolts upright, "I know just what we need. Food. We need brain food."

"I do not want to eat anything green right now."

Even the idea of broccoli inspires revolt in my stomach. A wicked smile forms on her face and she reaches into the waistband of her yoga pants, producing her Regent ID card.

"I'm not talking about that kind of food. Large fries and chocolate milkshakes. My treat."

I jump to my feet and engulf her in a stinky, awkward hug. She laughs and shoves me off and I grab her ID card.

"Hurry. I can feel brain cells starting to deteriorate."

I grin at her and trudge towards the growing line at Chuckie's, our one and only food joint outside of the caf. Jordan and I certainly are not the only ones in the midst of homework crises. Everyone around me looks zombie-like and near-death; this would be slightly less disturbing if Halloween hadn't already passed.

I sigh and lose myself in my thoughts while I wait to order. Through the windows, I can see gold and carnelian leaves being whisked through the wind. Some still hold on tightly to their old home, but others fleetly fly to their next adventure. Were I leaf, I'd be the last one to cling to the past. I've never been very brave.

I think back to when the trees were green, when I didn't have ten page papers and horrible body odor. I think back to our two weeks in the woods. I haven't seen much of my earliest friends since the semester has become so consuming, not even Josh. Sometimes my early fears resurface and I wonder if I've lost him. Even though it's only been a few months, losing a friend is always excruciating. Especially when that friend sometimes feels like more than a friend.

The line shifts and I slide forward. I try to pull myself from my thoughts, but they demand to be heard. My eyes brush across the silver counter of the food joint and the student workers wearing matching aprons and visors. They look as exhausted as I feel. My eyes slide from them to the people picking up their trays full of food slathered in fat.