The next morning… nothing felt different.
No sudden motivation.
No energy.
No miracle.
Just the same ceiling.
And the same emptiness inside me.
I lay there, staring blankly, as if expecting something to change on its own.
It didn't.
"Aarav!"
My father's voice came from the other room.
"Are you planning to sleep all day?"
"I'm up," I replied, even though I hadn't moved.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
He stood there, looking at me—not angry, not shouting… just disappointed.
That look was worse.
"You have college today?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then why are you still lying here?"
I sat up slowly but said nothing.
He sighed.
"You need to start taking your life seriously."
The same line.
Different day.
But today… it felt heavier.
"I am trying," I said quietly.
But even I knew how weak that sounded.
He looked at me for a moment, then shook his head.
"Trying is not enough anymore."
And with that, he walked away.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
But this time… it felt louder.
By the time I reached college, everything felt normal.
Too normal.
People talking. Laughing. Living.
As if yesterday never happened.
But for me…
It was still happening.
I walked past groups of students, keeping my head down.
A few eyes followed me.
Some whispered.
Some smirked.
I ignored them.
Or at least… I pretended to.
I sat in the last row.
Same seat.
Same position.
The lecture started, but I couldn't focus.
Words were being spoken… but none of them stayed.
My mind was somewhere else.
Stuck between yesterday and today.
Between who I was… and who I didn't want to be anymore.
After class, I didn't go home immediately.
I didn't feel like facing anyone.
So I just walked.
No destination.
No plan.
Just walking.
Eventually, I stopped near a small roadside tea stall.
I ordered tea and stood there quietly, holding the warm cup in my hands.
People passed by.
Everyone seemed busy.
Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go.
Except me.
"Lost?"
I looked up.
An old man stood beside me, sipping his tea.
I didn't reply.
He smiled slightly.
"You look like someone who is thinking too much… and doing too little."
I frowned.
Something about that felt… accurate.
I looked away.
He didn't say anything else.
But his words stayed.
That night, I sat alone in my room again.
No distractions.
No noise.
Just me.
And my thoughts.
For the first time…
I didn't try to escape them.
I faced them.
Everything I had been avoiding came rushing back—
My habits.
My excuses.
My failures.
And slowly…
I started realizing something uncomfortable.
Maybe this wasn't bad luck.
Maybe this wasn't because of others.
Maybe…
It was me.
I grabbed an old notebook from my drawer.
It was dusty.
Unused.
Just like everything I had planned to do… but never did.
I opened it.
Blank pages.
Waiting.
For a few seconds, I just stared at it.
Then I wrote—
"What is wrong with me?"
I didn't stop.
I kept writing.
Lazy
No discipline
Wasting time
No direction
No purpose
Each word felt like a punch.
But I didn't stop.
Because for once…
I wasn't lying to myself.
I paused.
Looked at the page.
And then wrote another question—
"Do I want to stay like this?"
My hand froze for a second.
Then slowly…
I wrote—
No.
Something inside me felt different.
Not strong.
Not confident.
But… aware.
And maybe that was enough.
For now.
I closed the notebook.
Took a deep breath.
And lay back down.
The ceiling looked the same.
The room felt the same.
But inside…
Something had slightly shifted.
Not a big change.
Not yet.
But maybe…
The beginning of one.