I returned to my room to find Tamera still dreaming pleasantly. I dropped my scriptures on the floor, a little too mercilessly, and then collapsed face first onto my bed. I could feel my skirt riding up, and even though no one was around besides my unconscious roommate, it made me feel uncomfortable.
I rummaged through my closet for a minute, trying to find something to change into, but then I gave up. I pulled my PJs off the top of my hamper and slipped them on. If I was going to be sulking, I would at least be comfortable.
There was no real reason for me to feel so down on life, it was a conscious choice I made. Some people wake up each morning, breath in the fresh air of a new day, stretch all their worries away. Not me. I wake up each morning thinking to myself why does morning have to come every single day?! I literally roll out of my bed and slink off to the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror way longer than is required before I ever get out my make-up or hair supplies. I just look into my eyes, trying to find the light that used to be there that is now gone.
My attitude was a dimmer. I closed the curtains on the windows to my soul. I didn’t know if I really wanted anyone to see in. I mean, I longed for romance, but I was afraid of friendship. I guess I was kind of expecting love to just find me without much effort on my part.
The light may have been dim, but it had always been there, until recently. Somehow I couldn’t find it at all. I’d just stare and stare thinking about what I’d done wrong and what I needed to do better. But I couldn’t make myself change. I wanted to change, but I didn’t believe I could, I guess. My head was muddled. My spirit was muddled.
I’ve never been too good about daily prayer, personal scripture study, journal writing, etc. I guess I’d been getting by on “borrowed light.” But borrowed light was still light. So what had happened to mine?
I laid on my bed thinking about these things, once again. I listened to Tamera’s steady heavy breathing, feeling slightly jealous that she could sleep in the middle of the day like that. I’ve tried to, and usually about the time I drift off someone wakes me up to go to dinner. I sat up; It was about dinner time now. That’s what happens when Church doesn’t get out until 4 in the afternoon.
“Tamera,” I said, loud enough to wake her, “Wanna go eat food?”
“No.” She rolled over and pulled her lime green comforter over her head.
I laid back down and stared at the MormonAds across the room. I had put them up, perhaps to remind me to be better than I naturally am. They weren’t working. Or more aptly, I wasn’t working. One of the posters taunted me to “rise above the blues.” I ignored it and pulled out a box of cereal. I didn’t feel like walking across campus again in this February weather.
I’d prayed to God one hundred times to help me change, to help me become happier. But had I really done my part? Is happiness something you have to work at, or is it something some people just naturally have? I wasn’t sure, but I was going to make the 101st prayer count. Tomorrow I was going to get out of my room. I didn’t know where I would go, but sitting in front of a laptop watching chick flicks and crime shows was getting me nowhere.
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Keep it clean. I like receiving advice on my writing, but don't usually take it. Don't be offended.