Abiola Biya
2 min readJul 15, 2018


Sunday Nights

I thought of sharing this as I laid in my bed, blanket pulled over my head, hands on my belly, tears on my face.

I just had a panic attack for one lame reason. I am unable to work.

I have at least twelve hours until I have to physically be at work so a part of me feels like I have time but I know that time will pass the way it always does. With me sitting in front of my computer until I decide I can’t come and go and die and then putting the computer to sleep and setting an alarm for 4 am, hoping and wishing that I would feel some sense of urgency by the time I wake up and will finally be able to get some work done.

“There’s something about Sunday nights that really makes you want to kill yourself.”

But between the 11pm I will finally fall asleep and the 4 am my alarm will go off, I will wake up at least 3 times, each time my heart beating faster than the last, my brain still scrambled and my eyes still hurting.

I will go to work nervous and miserable. I will have diarrhea, I will skip breakfast, possibly lunch. I may or may not slip into the bathroom to shake my head at myself in mirror and possibly cry. The day will end and I will get home late, hungry, tired and smelly.

I can share this now cause I don’t feel this way about Sunday nights anymore.