Day One

The days seem to have no end at all. Make of it what you will, but this is how it's been for ages. We all wake up to our normal selves, or what we think is our normal self. It's funny how many tricks our mind plays on us, at every second, every minute, every hour. These are not just any tricks mind you, but the ones that often question your sanity.

Questions, questions, questions, we ask them all. Will this day have an end? Will our lives have any meaning? Will the world be a better place to live? Okay. I admit, the last question is not something we all ask on a daily basis because our minds are so preoccupied with figuring out how to make through 24 hours that nothing beyond seems worth questioning.

24 hours, to most people, are more than enough to make it through the day; get their work done, eat, rest up. However, these people may never have experienced how quickly time flies, how for some, sparing an hour or two is a luxury they can't afford. 

What is it about 24 hours that makes it seem less to us? Why do we struggle so hard to make the most out of it? questions, questions, questions. It all seems endless. 

If I had to say, just out of personal experience, I find it hard. I barely get any sleep these days, the few hours that I do can't make up for the long and tiring day I've got ahead. Maybe ever since the lockdown came into effect, my brain has accepted that I won't be as tired as usual and hence won't need the extra 2-3 hours of sleep I got pre-lockdown.

It's true. I barely go out, my workouts are irregular but still not tiring enough to make me fall asleep. I manage through the day with the support of tea and coffee, and eyes glued to the screen. That's a recipe for disaster. Especially, one that I've been on a diet of for as long as I can remember.

For me, 24 hours never seem enough for what I want to accomplish throughout the day. I understand I spend a good 5-6 hours sleeping and 1-2 hours convincing myself why I should sleep now. I wake up each morning with reminders of what needs to be done, in terms of work and chores. Like an internal alarm telling me to get my act together as the seconds waste away. And they do waste away.

The rest of the hours go by, as soon as they arrive, 1 becomes 3 becomes 6 becomes 8, the next thing I know, I've barely done anything and the day is as good as done. It's a race against time, one that I've no chance of winning, mostly because time is in a race with us all, challenging us to beat it. For it knows we can't turn back the clocks; 24 will never become 25 or 26. 

What's left to do now? I ponder as I pull the blanket over my head, eyes tight shut, in the hope that this time, when sleep comes over me, it will be in a matter of seconds and not hours.

Await the next 24 hours.