The alarm rang at 4:30 AM.
He snoozed it.
Again at 5.
He swiped it away, eyes heavy.
The fan above whirred lazily, and outside the window, the early birds were just beginning their chatter. But inside his room, everything was still. Stuck.
He finally woke up around 7:15. No push-ups today. The mat lay untouched in the corner, the way it had for the past few days.
At first, it was just one skip.
"I'll double it tomorrow," he had told himself.
Then it became a few days. Then a week.
He looked at his arms once in the mirror, searching for that small muscle pump he had noticed earlier. It was gone. Or maybe never there. Maybe he imagined it.
He sat at his desk, looking blankly at the screen. The YouTube playlist for Integrals — open, waiting. He clicked one video and let it play.
"So let's begin with basic formulas of integration…"
His eyes drifted.
Notifications blinked on his phone. One from Discord. One from Instagram. Another from Chrome — some random article. He tapped one. Then another.
Before he knew it, three tabs were open: "Why you should read at least 10 pages a day," "Best protein-rich Indian breakfasts," and "Top 5 mistakes JEE aspirants make."
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He sighed. Closed all tabs. Reopened the lecture.
Paused it again.
He realised he didn't even have a proper Maths reference book. No Cengage. No Arihant. Just the thin NCERT and some old class notes. And for Chemistry, only a few PDFs scattered around Google Drive.
This is what happens when you assume things will just "work out."
He got up, made tea. Spent fifteen minutes scrolling through memes while it boiled. Sat on the couch. Opened Instagram again.
Watched reel after reel. Saw others studying, others succeeding, others grinding.
Each one hit like a slap.
"Why am I like this?"
It wasn't even laziness now. It was fog. Pure fog. His thoughts scattered. His focus broken.
His parents were trying. They believed he was trying too. His mom called out once, "Padhai ho gayi beta?" He said, "Haan thoda," without even thinking.
He lied without effort. That hurt more.
By 4 PM, the day had slipped through his fingers. He sat back at the desk, opened his notebook to where he had scribbled "Chapter 7 — Integrals" in the morning. Still blank. The same line staring back at him.
He picked up the pen.
Then dropped it.
Then opened Chrome.
Then jacked off.
It was mechanical now — just part of the spiral. An act of escape. Guilt hit immediately after. But instead of fighting it, he just lay on his bed. Blank. Numb.
Days started blending. Then weeks.
One day, he caught a glance of the calendar. A full month had passed. And all he had done… was Ray Optics.
Just one chapter.
Board exams were nearing. And he wasn't ready. Not even for the bare minimum.
Even passing felt uncertain.
He stared into the mirror that night. Jaw unshaved. Eyes tired. No glow. No confidence.
"What am I doing?" he whispered, not expecting an answer.
His heart thumped fast, but his mind moved slow. A terrifying mismatch.
Somewhere deep down, he knew this wasn't sustainable. He was doing everything but what needed to be done. Every small routine that held him together — push-ups, proper sleep, morning study, even basic planning — was now shattered.
He was spiraling.
But the scary part was… he didn't even know how to stop.