Invisible Barriers

The first line is essential. It must hook my readers. Is it catchy enough? My thesis should be in the intro. Committee is double m, double t, double e. This is unnecessary. Delete. Delete. Delete. Is this okay now? Hmmm…. I'm starving. As I reset my Pomodoro timer, I stretched my back, sore from all the sitting. It is forty-three minutes past midnight, and I have just started. Had I begun earlier, my paper should have been finished by now. But no, as a master procrastinator, I usually exhaust every petty reason in my list before I start typing away. I noticed the sticky feeling from all the sweating and told myself to freshen up before studying. I'd like to munch on our dinner leftovers, convincing myself I can focus better if I am full. I was ready, but then again, a notification popped up. I checked it. Afterward, I was aimlessly scrolling through t****k when an incoming call from my baby broke my reverie. "Briella Rae Velasco, are you done yet?" he asked, bringing me back to my senses. "How will you be a law student in the coming years if you are a turtle dealing with your papers, hmm?" "Babyy, let me work at my own pace." I reasoned out. After goodbyes, I resumed working on my paper and realized I was stuck. Then I took a power nap by resting my head on my table with my arms as my pillow. "Oh s**t!" I dozed off. My fingers were typing away madly, a frantic symphony with the thunderous beating of my heart against my ribcage. Every tap on the keyboard and click of the mouse was an ear candy, a beat I dived into. I was able to write smoothly onwards, with snacks and sips of black coffee in between. This was pretty much my routine whenever I had a major output like this to pass the next day. Unhealthy and unlikely for a language student who wants to see 1s on her portal at the end of the semester. Pressing the x button on open tabs, browsers, and Microsoft apps became weirdly satisfying when I entered college. It makes me do my little dance. That moment when I have to scramble through my backpack for my charger due to the dying battery is still as exciting as ever and gives me a surge of adrenaline. With that, I shut down my computer. With one hand, video calling my boyfriend's phone, I jumped in my bed while the other skillfully reached my back to unclasp my bra. Girls can't sleep with it on, says my mom, for reasons I never bothered to ask.  "Hi baby! Were you sleeping already?" I greeted.               "Gosh, Brie, it's 4 am," he answered, half-awake.               "Sorry, took me hours to finish, hehe."               "Hours? Took you all night tho."               We talked for several minutes about our day until one of us fell into a deep slumber. ***               Loud knocks on the door woke me up. That's Azi, for sure. I opened my eyes a bit just to close them again. He knocked once more, only louder this time.               "Brie! You're gonna be late. Get up now, or else I'll break down this damn door." Instantly, I got up and sprinted to the bathroom as soon as I heard him say the cue. His patience is wearing thin. He might be late in his first period by now. We go to school together via his Honda ADV. He lets me start it once in a while as he puts on my helmet for me.               "Stay still."               “Aziel Egon Gutierrez. Bachelor of Science in Information and Technology." I read aloud from his identification card.               "Stop. I know I'm handsome. No need to play with my ID."               "Aye, my future software engineer." I grinned at him. *** He kissed my forehead goodbye once we arrived at my classroom before he left to attend his. School started in the third week of August. It has been a month already. Some days, we are in the same building, but mostly, we're not. But we'd find each other during recess, lunch break, and vacant periods. He is not used to eating alone or eating with strangers. Funny how my presence is very much needed at every meal. Those are precious minutes we could spare. Unlike in high school, we don't have the luxury of time. Even so, Mr. Consistency fetches me daily from the dorm to school and vice versa. He still peels off his fried chicken's skin for me but takes out all the quail eggs in my orange balls. He still pinches my belly fat when I bite his shoulder out of the blue. He criticizes my English accent when singing Filipino songs, and I do the same when he sings off-key on the guitar. He still carves a smile on my face and makes me choke in laughter with his epic jokes and cheesy lines. He is as he has been for three and a half years of our togetherness, and I would not like that to change. Not now, not ever.