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Stress
by Aunana Houssain 

Picture
2:35am
I want to sleep but I can’t
Eight-hundred and twenty-six more words left.
I want to eat but I shouldn’t
Eight-hundred and seven words left.
 
I try to concentrate, squinting my eyes as
If it would focus them better.
Sitting up straight, trying to control
The sudden realisation at how heavy
My head really is.
 
Six-hundred and seventy-two words left.
I look at the early times on my clock
I ignore the yawn that escapes my mouth
I pause.
My heart beat increases
I look at the big number that looks so small
And I put my face in my hands in defeat,
Savouring the feeling of having my eyes closed
Slapping myself awake, I rise
 
Two-hundred and thirty-seven words left.
Flicking through pages, hunched over
My swamped desk, with a cold cup of tea
By my side, I type and type and type and type.
 
Twenty-seven words left.
I drag myself past the finish line as I
Push down the full stop button that
Ends my suffering.
 
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I held
Breathing out in relief, not thinking about
The fact I will have to do this again in a few days
I shut the thoughts out as well as my laptop
 
Switch my lamp off
Pack my books away and
Tuck myself into a deep slumber, as I sleep
painfully ignoring the sun that has peaked its way up
and the little amount of time
I have left till the beeping begins.
 


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