I'm generally an optimistic person. Lina and Kathy always tease me about how my optimism sometimes blinds me to reality, suggesting that people might even think I'm a bit crazy. Normally, I embrace that label, but today, I'm struggling to hold onto my usual sunny disposition. The weight of my anxiety feels almost tangible, pressing down on me, and I find myself lost in a sea of indecision.

Since this morning, I've been a bundle of nerves. Even my favorite neurology class, usually a beacon of fascination and focus, became a blur. My laptop screen, once a canvas of notes and diagrams, now sits blank and uninviting. A sudden notification jolts me from my reverie. Simon's persistent texts about attending the match are like nails on a chalkboard, increasing my headache rather than alleviating it.
It's not that I don't want to attend Simon's match.