My freshman year had just come to a close.
Finally, I can have some fun.
Silly me, if I only knew the work ahead of me.
Once school ended I had a one-day break.
After June 29th, the work and preparation for next year had begun.
A rigorous schedule created by mommy dearest was put into effect.
No breaks, no time to slack off.
My siblings were both off at Ivy League schools and I had to join them.
There was no if, I had to join them.
At first, when I was younger it all seemed cool.
It’s weird to say but it did.
It felt cool to be smart, cool to be at the top of my class.
Now it started to feel like a burden.
Freshman year was fun, I made the principal honor roll twice.
My friends and I also did a lot together.
We went to our local amusement park, haunted house, things like that.
Sadly, I think that’s the last year I’ll feel that way.
The feeling of everything coming so naturally to me, so effortlessly.
Last year and in the past, everything felt so simple, barely any stress.
Now I question myself and my sanity.
I only get four hours of sleep a day.
My friends call and I don’t even have the energy,
any energy at all just to press the answer button.
But I know what I’m feeling now is just weakness.
My body and my mind aren’t at the same level.
If only I could make my body as tough as my mind.
And that’s when it hit me,
I need pills to help me sleep, I need Triazolam!
I could steal some from our local hospital.
I have to keep working, I can’t stop.
I didn’t build my reputation for many years just to destroy it within seconds.
I did so much to get to where I am, by taking Algebra 1 in sixth grade
becoming middle school valedictorian,
as Delilah was salutatorian right behind me,
making the first honor roll since I could crawl, and so much more.
I just needed these pills to make me the person I once was proud of.
I was a shell of what I’d once been, and that was because of
my lack of sleep. It had to be.
Desperate to get back to feeling like the old happy Bennett,
I drew up a plan to obtain Triazolam so I get the sleep I’ve been missing.
My dad needed high school interns at the hospital he worked at.
I happily told him of my interest.
Signed up and got the position.
My impeccable academic record saved the day yet again.
First day on the job,
all I can think about is getting my hands on Triazolam.
Time goes by rather quickly.
My shift ends and I go to the medicine room.
I feel bad as my dad is outside waiting for me.
Like an unaware getaway driver participating in a devious crime.
I use my id to open the cabinet that lit my eyes up as soon as I saw it.
It contained what I needed to become the perfect student I once was.
As soon as the cabinet opens I take the sleeping pills
I’ve been longing for, quickly shoving three down my throat.
After ingesting my long awaited cure for my sluggish behavior these days,
I collect and put four bottles of Triazolam inside my blue bookbag.
Not too long after, I leave the hospital. As I left,
I felt scared, ashamed but on a good note, most importantly
I felt a semblance of my old self.
As sleep, the one thing I missed came to me so quickly on the ride home.
