Uhm. So, I realize no one's probably reading this...but if you are, I'll keep updating it. I'd really appreciate any form of feedback. This type of writing is completely out of my comfort zone, I usually keep my emo to poems and humour to my prose and fiction, so, yup.
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‘Max.’ What was that? That was my name. Wait, where am I again? Oh yes, school, who was saying my name?
‘Max?’ Mr Hall, of course it was, he was doing the register. I pull out one of my earphones, not realizing that I can not only hear over the music, but that I don’t need to hear to answer. I mumble a late ‘yes, sir’ and sit up a bit to appear more awake. Looking round I spot Elle and Fran, huddled up together at a table in the corner, away from me. That’s my own fault, I realize, for falling asleep instead of waiting for them to come in. I found that I wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that my two closest friends were becoming more distant as the days went by. The earphone went back in, my head dropped to my arms and I closed my eyes once again, waiting for the bell.
That day passed the same as the one before, and the one after. I spent my free periods curled up in the corner of the common room, ignoring the work I needed to do for the next lesson and then spent my lessons in a daze. I was generally unaware of anything happening around me, nor did I care enough to make the effort to stay focused. Occasionally one of my teachers would make a half hearted attempt to determine whether something was wrong, but they were usually satisfied by a mumbled explanation of lack of sleep. Looking back, perhaps they could have tried harder to see why a relatively intelligent and enthusiastic student had slipped so badly, but my failures from those days were ultimately of my own doing.
As the year progressed, I started finding it harder and harder to summon up the will to get out of bed, let alone be motivated enough to complete my work. I’d been sinking slowly and suddenly found myself drowning in reams of late and badly written scraps of coursework. I had thought - the first time I cried myself to sleep - that that was it. I thought I’d hit rock bottom and things could only get better. I was miserably wrong. The ‘episodes’, as they were, started increasing in frequency and things eventually slipped completely out of my control just before Christmas.