May I Offer You a Treat?

"What would you like?" the little voice in my head says with sassy ease. As seasonal depression comes bounding back in waxing waves, my inner monologues begin to flip flop between overbearing nit picking and taunting tease. I drove down the winding, silent roads of the sparse back streets and at this very moment, the critic in my head decided to be the latter today.

"I know what you want." The critic answered. "Silence and serenity. Tea and tranquility. A break from this horrid burnout you're facing."

And they weren't wrong. I couldn't deny it in the least. I pined after it so hopelessly. Will this yearning ever end?

"But you're quite silly, don't you see? Right now, you already have all three!" They continued.

A stop sign loomed nearby and I halted to a stop.

The skies were a sea consisting of a myriad of pastel purple, blues and pinks. Crisp morning winds danced through my rolled windows and bounced happily. Within my cup holder was an untouched green tea and the aroma wafted through the bouncy breezes happily.

The voice was right, I hate to admit. Because all I wanted only happened during the brief, fleeting commune to the hellhole I claim as my institution.

"I hate you so much."

Those four words were a phrase I'd always inevitably mutter as I meander my way through the school's chaotic parking lot.

"I know you do." The inner critic chortled as I stumble out of my car. "Have fun in chemistry!"

"I hate you too." I retorted but the voice had already left me when I stepped foot into the classroom.

It was just me, my untouched lab report and the stiffening silence before the start of the lecture.