Most mornings, I wake up in a sluggish haze, eyes burning, brain aching. I set four alarm clocks on my phone just to make sure I get up to turn at least one of them off. The thoughts of projects, papers and deadlines accumulate into a giant two-ton boulder that I’ve committed to dragging around daily.
When it’s cold as hell outside, I put on another ten pounds of jacket and scarf, along with the fifty pounds of dreaded backpack. I trudge to class and stare outside the window at the bleak and dreary gray, waiting for the clock to hit 9:30. I sniffle dryly and try not to think about what tasks I have to do for the day, and how in the hell I’m going to break out of my two-month gym hiatus.
And then I hear the little “bing” from my phone, and before I even turn on the screen to check it I already know who has messaged me. She always messages me; mostly in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon if she wakes up late. It’s always the same type of message, nothing extremely special.
Usually it’s along the lines of, “hii babe, good morning!”
And if it’s a Monday: “DUUDEE do you remember last night???”
Sometimes it’s even just a string of random emojis: “(Unicorn unicorn heart heart devil)”
It’s just enough to get me to smile.
It’s my best friend, my Hugsy, my backpack buddy. Every morning, her little messages make me feel just a tiny bit more cheerful. It doesn’t take her longer than thirty seconds to type out a chain of seemingly random emojis and press send, and yet her gesture gives me just the extra energy I need. Even in the confines of Carnegie Mellon, it’s a relief to know that you’re not imprisoned alone.
Her messages remind me that at 4:30, when I return home at the end of a long and exhausting day, she’ll be there waiting at my door. And like always, we’ll slump on my couch, kick off our shoes, eat chips and grouch sarcastically about our lives until we both end up clutching our sides in laughter. It’s just a little something to look forward to.