the bottom.

Sometimes, you just hit the bottom.

You can't do anything about it, really. 

It's just there, waiting to catch you — catch being a generous word, because usually I find myself catapulting to the bottom and landing hard on my butt — when everything is way over your head, when you're behind in school or work, when you think you can't handle your relationships or your friends, when something you didn't expect hits you, when nothing goes right. 

It comforts you — comfort also being a generous word. It makes you hate everything and it makes you want to collapse. It wraps its negativity and cynicism around you, and you never want to leave. Because it's too hard. It's too hard to pry yourself away. 

Sitting at the bottom is a lot easier than trying to climb back to the top. Sitting in misery is so much easier than working to smile. 

But you have to do it.

Recently, I have fallen. There's been a lot of work that hasn't gotten done and a lot of time that I don't have to waste, and I am at the bottom. I am behind in classes because I was sick, I have a big test this week, and I am concerned. I am sad and I am afraid and I am stressed. I am sitting Indian-style on the floor of rock bottom, and I'm not enjoying it. 

But I know I have to get up. I want to stay in bed, I want to cry, I want to stay forever at the bottom with the misery and the cynicism and the stress and the worry. I want my mommy, I want my boyfriend, I want constant hugs and coffee and tissues. I want someone to come in and fix it all. But I have to get up on my own to make it. 

And so do you.