The Anxious Keypad

The Perplexed Screen.

As I peered through the window, the world outside seemed to mock my captivity. The clear blue sky and the swaying trees whispered secrets of freedom I longed for. I felt trapped in my room, ensnared by the relentless demands of my assignments and the unrelenting glow of my laptop screen. The serenity of those distant moments spent connecting with nature felt like a dream, lost in the digital labyrinth that held me captive.

"What if the fan on the ceiling fell on my assignment ?"

"What if the wall next to me fell on my assignment ?"

Several sleepless nights, hours of staying glued to a dumb screen, and the week's work. The numb fingers, tired of tapping on a square keypad, will all go haywire in a split second. I felt two spiders just idling over my hair, and they had managed to build the most puzzling cobweb, making a tight fence-like structure, covering the unzipped mouth of my satchel. The light brown bag had turned into a beautiful dark brown colour, embracing all the bits of dust which made frequent visits to my room.

The laptop's screen resting on the desk gave three alarming sirens showing off a red and bolded warning on the laptop screen.

"You have 5 hours left to submit the module assignment of CU1122."

My face stared at the perplexed screen. All my good energy was dissolved into the air, and no more power remained inside my weary soul. The entire morning was spent digging in the internet browser, writing a five-page long nagging assignment, and there was one more to be done for the day. I skimmed through the instruction manual, pressing my brain cells to absorb the core of the lengthy document.

Last night was a wild night. It was nearly dawn when I hit the submit button and finally got to relieve my burning anxiety. Three empty plastic cups of black coffee stood sturn as a rock pillar without even flickering to the heaviest strand of wind that collided with them. The mirror on the wall only reflected a picture of a handsome boy with sunken eyes and dark circles underneath.

My stomach was aching to start from the fourth blessed hour of the day. My mouth pushed back strong efforts of the stomach to eject a stream of poisonous vomit from time to time onto the smooth floor. Having a sound nap on the table, my hands woke occasionally and started to tremble and tremble endlessly.

"The breakfast is ready...It is toasted sandwiches with lemonade...."

"Jack, get off your bed, get ready, and have breakfast.."

It was my mom's everyday morning chorus. The droplets of water that flowed from the shower resembled some flakes of snow which fell on an igneous hearth. The T-shirt absorbed the wetness of the body. My towel stood still, hung on the rack neatly and warmly. For the entire past three months, my feet have felt only the texture of the smooth tiles attached to the kitchen and my study room floors.

A voice inside my head was screaming.

"Watch the others; they are way better!".

This feeling was always hovering above my disobedient mind. My eyes stopped at my unfinished essay. The first two lines were perfect. Under them were tiny sketches of cartoons and some figures of creatures still undiscovered on Earth.

"You are not good at work!".

Another wailing cry. It unconsciously made me look at the showcase on my left, shining proudly with shields and medals made of gold, silver, and bronze.

The screen again turned red with a series of sirens.

"Four lecture recordings to watch before today evening!!!".

"Two Zoom lectures to be held today!!!".

I yawned lethargically; my hands got hold of the cell phone and jumped straight onto the bed. After several scrollings of the feed, the perplexed screen went colourful with various photos.