ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, a cruel monster that attacks me at night as I push myself to focus on my schoolwork that so desperately needs finishing. What is a disorder anyways? It doesn’t hurt, it doesne’t talk to me, it doesn’t smell, taste, feel, or look any different than anything else around me; so why does it consume so much of my life? It takes ahold of my focus and throws it down a set of stairs that lead to nowhere. I sit at my desk and first I notice my leg: it is shaking violently. I don't think much of it until I realize that I haven’t felt myself blink in a minute, that my pencil isn’t as sharp as I need, and that breathing can become a voluntary action that I can’t seem to get the hang of.  As quickly as it rushed over me, my anxiety was gone. The only thing I notice now is the black screen staring back at me.

I see the black walls surrounding me. I am blown away at how even the tiniest of smudges can be noticable. The walls are a barren landscape that is littered with little tiny craters created by the atomic power of one missed step. I set my weight back into the sticky leather of my chair, I spin and spin around until world surrounding me looks like a picasso painting.

I can hear my heartbeat trying to break free of it’s cell of bones. I hear my thoughts wandering from the depths of the Mariana Trench to the top of Mt. Everest. No matter how far they travel, I can’t seem to escape the sounds of my mother upstairs helping my brother who cries in agonizing pain due to a snapped clavicle. His shrieks carry down the road and around the corner it seems as if they are a never ending rock concert just looking for an audience that just so happens to live right above me. I hear the ticks of my digital clock counting carelessly down to 6:30 the next morning. My room has become a lawless wasteland much like every other night, I am sitting, waiting, until I finally give up hope and crash on my bed laying the opposite way.

I feel the sticky leather of my chair that I can barely sit still in. The leather pulls at my skin like the tongue of a chameleon that has camouflage itself into the seat of my chair. It pulls at me like my bed is sucking at my soul just begging me to give in and throw away all hope of actually getting something done. The last thing keeping me rooted finds it’s brutal demise in the form of a blaring commercial that nearly bursts my eardrum. I writhe in pain as the endless ad continues through my headphones. My music has been cut off and I have lost all sense of anything around me, I stand up like a lifeless puppet being held upright by loose string and mope the few feet to my bed where I finally give in to the pressure around me and fall into a restless sleep.

I sat at my desk earlier that day, I see visions of episodes shimmering all around me, calling for my attention that gives into peer pressure like a 13 year old child being pushed to smoke a cigarrette. In the corner by the door I saw myself, sitting in my chair silently drowning in my own anxiety, talking to myself I pondered, “How many to jupiter? How far can the human body run? How do ADHD meds work? Why can’t I get anything done?” My mind had become a google search bar and my teeth replaced by the keys of my laptop. I glanced at the whiteboard just to see myself falling onto the sheets of my bed. Behind me I hear my heartbeat once again, it crept into my fingers until they were shaking with no hope of the calm so desperately needed. I counted to 50 in my head, each number is one that held something to calm me down. A simple breath hidden between every syllable, held the calmness I yearn for.

I now sit at my desk and for the first time in almost 24 hours I feel, normal. I think to myself, “Everyone says that normal is boring, but for me normal means sane. Normal means having control over your thoughts, getting homework done without needing a 504 plan to ensure success.” The word holds the secrets of my wishes I am able to sit still for just 5 godforsaken seconds, normal looks like the world I see around me that I just wish I could be a part of for just those 5 seconds. I find this normality in my breathing. It gives me something that I can focus on because I know that breathing can become a voluntary action.