Alienation

Chapter 1 – 08/04/2022, Friday 18:02

A plastic click echoed in the quiet room as Ella shut the laptop. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, it didn’t take more than five seconds to flip it open again.

The assignment was handed in before the deadline. She was quite sure. The precise time was even indicated on the screen: 18:00 sharp. Why then? Why did ‘late submission’ return her glare with bold red font? Her eyes narrowed at the accusing words until they blurred. The initial confusion and dismissal disappeared with a hot flash of fear.

She should reach out to the teacher.

She could only hover over the emailing app. Embarrassment drenched the usual fiery itch to argue her case. What would she even write? ‘Dear Professor, the system seems to disagree, but I was definitely on time’?

She’d already pushed the deadline. Ella hadn’t even handed it in last time.

Barely doing anything with the extra time, when submission was an hour away the final third of her paper was closer to resembling a draft. She couldn’t make it any better though; she had to finish the footnotes. Impending doom shocked her awake and anxiety pumped energy through her blood, but no matter how peak the effort was, a minute couldn’t fit into a second.

She uploaded the assignment on ‘Canvas’ on the dot, but the chaos leading up to that consisted of accepting probable failure and just submitting. How overconfident had she been to start on the day of the deadline? How ignorant. Did she actually believe she was going to manage what others did in weeks in hours? Not being graded at all might be less humiliating.

The laptop was closed shut again. This was a mess too far gone to fix.

Ella grabbed her earphones from the nightstand. Still in her pyjamas, she stood up as she heard the ding of connection and walked towards the dining table. The track of music played right where she’d left it. It was alien and familiar. Songs dramatised her experience of life like glitter. By the time she sat down on the opposite side of the room, catastrophic failure received its very own soundtrack. She was usually at war with boredom. But now regret had brought shame, and she was being beat up.

Getting up from her seat, her next move to the window had a sense of finality about it. The spot on the back of the green sofa wasn’t exactly comfortable, but sitting by the fresh air pouring in was mandatory.

Taking the first puff, magic smoke swarmed in from the tip of the filter and down her lungs. It immediately quenched a thirst she hadn’t taken note of until now. Golden comfort was swirling in the back of her throat, and it was as though giving in, or up, had switched off all anxious thoughts. The worries dissipated into an ugly background she could easily ignore, and the heavy weight dragging behind her was cut loose.

Really considering the fullness in her chest, she exhaled.

This being the first spliff today shouldn’t have been so notable, but it was, and she was torn between attempting to think she could be proud or just immediately conceding the dishonourable picture of her screw-up. It was six p.m. and the notion of congratulating herself for the abstinence until now left a bitter aftertaste she almost felt the urge to cough at.

The bird’s eye view of the last two weeks painted theatrics of exam preparations which concluded with failure every single time. She’d tried to cram an entire module of course material, had basically discovered each subject, and ended up handing in two out of six or seven exams. She hadn’t even attended the others.

Only once this time around had she walked through the airport-like building Maastricht University used to host exams; for her third attempt at ‘contract law’. It being the third time she took this exam had been the only thing able to drag her there. Passing the course had become an ego-thing. Though if the state of the assignment she just submitted was anything to go by, vanity didn’t inspire her much anymore.

This was bad.

Proof was falling from the air like it was confetti, and even her reliable inner defense attorney must have decided she was being too much and didn’t take her side.

Could the COVID-19 vaccine be mandatory in Europe in light of article 8 ECHR? Knowledge on the article covering human rights from a previous course should have helped her breeze through the essay; it was current, well-talked-about and had even been interesting in the beginning. But with the pandemic dragging its path through her student years, by now Ella could barely conceal her disdain for the topic. She hated that virus.

A couple of months ago she’d been quite sure. She’d reasoned that the end-grade she was going to get was worth the zero from not handing the paper in. Now she didn’t know if she was even going to be graded. Since she was too ashamed to reach out to the teacher and all.

She shouldn’t be surprised. How dare she be? This butchered exam week was the logical conclusion to the entirely lazy way she’d been spending her days.

Still. How could she let such a disaster happen? Again?

Ella had moved on quickly the last couple of times she completely flunked exams, somehow convinced since things were beyond repair she could only do better next time. But this wasn’t like the last times.

Or maybe it was exactly like them. The rope around her neck started suffocating her airways. How sure had she been? That she could cut it loose whenever? Could she still reach it?

Yes. It wasn’t too late.

The reason for her failure to keep up had been as obvious then as it was now; being high and simultaneously studying Law were not compatible. At least not to the extent she had been taking it before this particular exam-week. She was very willing to lay the blame with the psychoactive substance; it’d draw the attention away from her not investing any actual effort. Considering the amounts she’d smoked this week, though reduced, to be any kind of acceptable, stemmed from her unwavering belief that Mary-Jane wasn’t that bad.

It was a good drug.

With a flicker of her joint, the ash missed the ashtray.

Going through legal material while disregarding the temptation to watch movies, anime, read, especially to read, that came with this buzzed state, simply couldn’t hold sway within a mind used to chasing whatever fleeting satisfaction arose in the moment. Try reading some fantasy novel high, it’s a whole trip.

She was sleeping upwards of twelve hours a day.

Shit, that did sound bad.

Ella had always enjoyed sleeping more than your average person, but it begged the question of why the sweet feeling of nothingness was the one she found most comforting. Not even dreaming anymore, this singular way of turning consciousness off was a big enough appeal. It was like she preferred being turned off; or high.

The crawl towards oblivion had been slow, gradual, and yet it had spiralled into proportions she couldn’t shake the damn surprise for.

Ella rolled the flint wheel of the ‘Clipper’ with her thumb.

It was so ironic.

The realization shocked her awake, but the eye of the storm was the same as that very first time she bailed on going to exams. Why did she always dive headlong back into the rain? Did she insist on testing the limits since the way out was an ever-present option? If there were indeed a limit, she had undoubtedly reached the outer bounds of it. Things had to change.

Pigeons cooed from below; they must have agreed.

One year ago, the course ‘Introduction to European and International Law’ had witnessed Ella murder discipline.

Sitting in a salon chair, with foils in her hair and the smell of bleach prickling her nose, the tablet rested on her lap as her pen jutted down information in her note-taking app. Her pace made her feel quite smart. The hairdresser was chatting with the client in the seat beside her, but it wasn’t too distracting. Maybe the comfortable static even helped her concentrate.

This couldn’t be called ideal, but all in all, it was manageable.

The single week she took off after exams had been necessary. She had needed the rest and basically slept through it. Now she was getting back on track, actively. By tonight she'd finish Tutorial One, tomorrow she'd start Tutorial Two, and by the time the third class of the module rolled in next week, she'd be caught up.

Right?

Checking how many pages were left; she was almost halfway done now.

Easy.

She should still check the documents for the other two tutorials she needed to have finished by Monday. Opening the ‘Canvas’ app and going into the syllabus, she scrolled until she reached the second Tutorial.

Her eyes were glued to the screen as the instructions poured cold water over her head and down her back.

Tutorial two: chapters five and six. Tutorial three: chapters two and seven.

She scrolled back up to the first tutorial. Chapters one and four.

Wait.

Chapter four?

Shit. Suddenly she wasn’t quick and halfway done with the reading for Tutorial one, but less than a quarter into it.

She’d done fourteen pages. In roughly three or four hours. More than one-hundred-sixty were left. That was like — she quickly typed math into her phone calculator — between thirty-two and forty hours left. And that was just the book chapters. She still had to watch three lecture sessions; and do the reading for those.

She had three and a half days left.

The hum of the machine over her head, the warmth of it reaching her face and the gentle whoosh of spring air entering the room through the open front door; all of it felt too relaxing for the way reality suddenly crashed back in. It appeared she had miscalculated, badly.

She wasn’t going to be able to catch up.

No.

That was ridiculous.

She’d just spend the entire weekend working. Three and a half days meant like eighty hours. If she slept a little less than usual it was easily enough time.

Spoiler: it wasn’t enough.

Instead, one week had somehow become a year.

Ella rubbed her forehead as though that would massage the shame away.

She knew what she had to do: wake up in the morning, go to the library and do the work for the tutorials on time. She had to go to class, which was finally in person, and she would participate. From the girl’s subjective viewpoint, she just needed to try with something other than a half-assed attitude that would ultimately be abandoned midway. She had to shake off this unbothered attitude, treating everything as if it didn’t matter. She’d do the whole studying thing, go swimming with the university team, invite her housemate Elienor to hang out; and she’d do it consistently.

She wouldn’t abstain from the bedtime-joint though. That was too much. Only getting stoned in social settings was the end-goal, but she’d burn that bridge when she got to it. The action itself wasn’t the issue, it was the frequency and the way it completely paralyzed her days.

If she wasn’t so hell bent on arguing that Cannabis itself wasn’t the problem, she might have considered whether she’d even be able to quit a bit more seriously. She barely even remembered how she used to spend her free time when she wasn’t high.

She could have agreed that it was concerning how the only time she really felt something was when dopamine artificially pumped through her brain with THC. But the reason why she felt the need to escape until everything became fuzzy was an issue that didn’t require any acknowledgment. She didn’t need to think about it because the answer was obvious: getting high was fun. The only downside was that it was incompatible with doing anything even remotely productive.

The point was, the way her life had turned out wasn’t the weed’s fault. It was hers. She was the one choosing instant gratification so routinely restraint became foreign. Ignoring any and everything stressful, living like time didn’t exist, Mary-Jane infallibly pulled her up into the clouds.

She put out the joint and grabbed the pre-rolled next one from the windowsill. Lighting it while identifying it as the problem was somehow failing to weigh on her conscience. This was her break, well deserved or not.

Her gaze followed the grey smoke wafting out of the third-floor window.

It was evening, but still bright. Spring finally taking hold made for a nice view, and while the temperature wasn’t exactly balmy, the orange curtain hanging low in the sky felt comfortable on her cheeks. Leaves on the trees were the only thing missing to complete the seasonal look, but the sunset shining though the naked branches was easy on the eye. Admiring the scene as though it were a striking painting needing to be etched into her mind, it almost felt like it’d be warm tomorrow.

It was kind of inspiring. The change of season flagrant and the conclusion of this exam week disastrous, it was like she could finally turn the page over to the next chapter. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it was in the air, but this guilt-driven ambition only a total lack of effort could provide was almost euphoric.

The head start she was actively providing her classmates, overconfident in catching up, no longer chained her down so heavily. She’d effectively ghosted her studies, but stubborn as she was, she was sure she’d make it if she simply reached out. Observing the pretty colours splashed in the distant sky, her mind finally felt quiet. The high she always chased finally hit and her fears were hidden behind a milky curtain until she forgot they existed.

Her fingers twitched as the thought of grabbing her tablet to read a webnovel spoke up. Before she could comply, gaze still glued to the pretty view outside, something below the skyline diverted her attention.

In all of her time spent living here, she couldn’t remember a single sign of life coming from the apartment block across the street. The building had been perpetually empty until now, to the point she’d even wondered what purpose it served. But now, after zooming in onto what had caught her eye, she saw a person moving about behind the windows. She couldn’t help feeling amused at the striking contrast.

It was very funny that of course, she would notice.

Her eyes moved over the vibrant sky over the rooftop for another second, before more motion in her peripheral vision had her tearing her gaze from the aesthetic scenery. Immersing herself into the online fantasy novel, music played a perfect background through her earphones; not even the pigeons trying to sing just below the window managed to bother her.

Chapter 2 – 08/04/2022, Friday 22:13

It was pitch black out by the time Ella was done eating her cup noodles acting as dinner and back in her spot by the window to smoke the next round. With her music as backdrop, she’d been deeply immersed in the fantasy novel for a while.

Until heavy and persistent noise quietly overpowered the earphones.

Living next to the train station and near the city centre, loud rackets until six a.m. were not out of the ordinary; but nothing this in-your-face or consistent, nothing she could not masterfully blend out. Popping her out of her isolated bubble, her gaze moved over to the opposite side of the street.

A party was in full swing.

Huh. Was that what the previous movement had been about?

Light was pouring out of the usually empty apartment block, heavy bass was vibrating its way past the windows, and there was a crowd on the balcony. The sounds registered with new unavoidable magnitude. Even the partiers’ fuss could be heard. She was surprised her ‘no fucks given’ attitude facilitated ignoring entire festivities until she couldn’t gauge how long they’d been at it.

With exam season just ending, it was understandable that celebrations were in order. For everyone else at least. Or maybe she could call her hang-out by the window her own little party. No, that sounded too pathetic to reach the fun she tried to make out of the situation. Turning the volume of her own music up until the crowd was drowned out, she focused back on the fantasy novel.

But it was challenging.

The reminder of how normal people spent their Friday night was hitting low, and suddenly everything didn’t feel so fine anymore. Being high couldn’t stop the self-criticism. Or maybe it was pointedly what was making it worse.

The research paper became a more obvious failure with every second she spent considering the effective submission, late or not. Having ever thought otherwise must have been some kind of momentary and thoughtless delusion, pushed by stress and lack of perspective.

Apart from the paper she ‘submitted’ a couple hours prior, she went to a single exam. And as much as she’d been hopeful about it until now, the longer she thought about it, the more arguments for defeat were made for that one too.

Thoughts were spiralling intensely with every second she paused the avoidance of her past behaviour. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. But contemplating a picture bigger than just this moment, just today—admiring the gigantic screw up that the last year had been in all of its ignorant glory, with all of its terrifying consequences—had her straighten her spine some more. How did she manage this big fucking lie? To herself? And how dumb would she be if she persisted?

She still remembered her first night in Maastricht. The room was full of her newly built furniture and stacked with boxes she hadn’t organized yet. Ella hadn’t been able to stop stupidly smiling at the ceiling as she fell asleep. But the freedom had turned into poison. She’d been rotting her brain on high-induced binge sessions; videos, books, anything to keep her entertained. She couldn’t even remember the last time she went to a party.

The next inhale of the blunt was long, like it would help quiet the racing doom in her thoughts. The exhale was even longer.

She’d do it. Be normal again. Just like those people on the other side of the street.

The last two weeks were spent attempting and failing to get back into studying. And today carried some kind of symbolic anniversary to commemorate the start of her deviant behaviour. But as much as the feelings felt terrible, they ignited a rare all-consuming stubbornness. So what if her warmup had not won (finished) the race? She just hadn’t tried hard enough, or soon enough, or consistently enough. But whatever. All of this momentum was the jump into cold water. Now she just needed to swim. She had still been smoking way too much (if only not as much), but she could fight a couple of sharks if that’s what it took to keep from drowning.

How stupid.

If she was so serious about keeping afloat, why did she not reach out to the teacher immediately after realizing the digital mistake four hours ago? That would have been the sensible course of action no matter how embarrassed she was. She couldn’t send the email now. It was too late. The system’s fuck-up became hers.

Sound snuck through the barrier of her earphones. Right. The party. Were they shouting?

Even if they were, it was none of her business. She turned the volume on her phone further up; the festivities outside could be ignored.

She’d become so irritable recently, snapping at the simplest things. It was annoying. Now even a bit of noise made it feel like something invisible pressed her impatiently.

She always thought depression meant sadness, but maybe it was more than that. This excruciating guilt following her every step; not going to most of her exams; the sloppy research paper; this out-of-control stoner behaviour; were all proof that something was wrong with her. The way she was chain-smoking Mary-Jane simply made it impossible to feel sad. The joy was artificial, and probably unhealthy, but it’s the thing that kept her hand moving to and from her lips.

It needed to stop. She needed her brain.

Not right now though. Right now she needed to get high enough to forget.

The doorbell rang. She didn’t really care though. It was almost midnight, and she was obviously not expecting anyone. If someone forgot their key, they could text the group chat. Maybe then she’d deign to pause her party and go down the three flights to open the door.

When bellowed laughter echoed from outside, she was finally torn from her fortress of overthinking. Her head turned towards the source so fast she didn’t have the time to decide why she was bothering to look. For the first time, her gaze settled without immediately moving away.