Mor(t)al Decay

Darkness. Ghostly shadows flutter across the damp walls of my cell. Triple lock. Bolt lock: relentless academics; chain lock: restriction; key lock: life. I only dream of what occurs outside of my little gray cell: day-time naps with no alarm clocks, weekend date without having to check my calendar first, reading a novel without class books screaming in the background, hanging out with friends without having to be discreet, fresh grass between my naked toes; freedom.

This confusion between dream and reality is mostly responsible for my bipolar mood swings. Though it's not swinging evenly so much anymore on a pendulum, my mood has been, forever it seems, halted on the reality side only. Such luxuries as stated only exist in dreams, that is, when I finally can dream. Because although I sleep at night, I'm never resting enough to actually dream. By the time I lie in bed, reach over and set my alarm for, at best six hours from then, and look up at the bars supporting my roommates bed, I'm too exhausted to appreciate the momentary escape from the day. Physically drained from having been at work non-stop for months--not to mention my recovery from two days of bed rest was disrupted by the following days two wrestling workouts. Mental toughness has been decaying for weeks now; I can't seem to be able to turn the page to start fresh. My body's supply of whatever chemical, I can't remember, that it is supposed to naturally produce to cope with stress, has run dry. Stress has collided with my Will and seems to have won the scrum. Especially if we're keeping score with smiles.

Am I feeling sorry for myself? Have I buried myself in self-pity? Maybe.

What is swagger? I mope.

Fundamentally, I'm told I have three pillars that make up my life right now: academics, athletics, and military.
..I had a Physics assignment due last Tuesday that I still haven't done. (today is Sunday)
..I haven't wrestled in two weeks, and this past week I was in the room once out of six workouts because I was sick and injured.
..My biggest grade in military was this past summer detail. I got an F for single-cause-failure from my drinking episode.
My attempt to support the weight is to add my own forth pillar: personal. But even that pillar is slanting.
..without counting the sarcastic laughs to cope with the depressing lifestyle I've lived the past few months, with the score climbing Stress-77 to Smiles-3. I rarely laugh. Hope to fill the emptiness with a female companion is absurd. I'll spare myself and my faithful readers from the pages upon pages I could produce on my forever journey for love, and just say I miss the feeling, and beg for her to find me. I'm still waiting..

Oh yea..when I tried to celebrate my twenty-first birthday last week, by merely watching a movie with some friends, I got caught breaking Room Restriction.

I'm not supposed to let them beat me down. I'm supposed pep up and keep my swag without breaking stride all the way through this punishment stage, which consists of sixty days Room Restriction, ninety days No-Privileges, weekly mentorship meetings, a twelve-hour alcohol abuse class(filled a Saturday), 35-40 pages of developmental writing on how this is a turning point in my life, and one-hundred hours served to weekend duty (where productivity has drastically dropped since we've started, due to the death of motivation). Not to mention, I live every day in the land of Professional Ethics Education. Constanly feeling as though I'm variable X in an X, Y Case study of morals and ethics. I'm under constant guard, because if I let up for even a nano-second The Man capitalizes on my momentary mental lapse and I get whipped back in line. The shackles around my ankles have rubbed my skin raw. No worries though, there's no pain..I am numb.

When will I rest? Not sleep. Sleep is not restful. Sleep is a tease. A few short hours of solitude yes, but not beneficial. The time I'm away from my hellish daily activities during the night only makes me weaker when I wake. I wake to thoughts of a better day overwhelmed with painful reminders from the previous days' chaos. What's the point? I'd rather never sleep, so that the numbness never wears. More Novocaine. Please. And a much stronger dose.