It was the first week of summer, and I was already bored out of my mind.
At first, it seemed exciting: no school, no homework, and no waking up at 5:00 AM every morning. I had plans to go downtown and hang out with my friends, and maybe even start a journal. But all of that disappeared pretty fast. My best friend Maya went to Florida to visit her grandma, and my other friend Eira was stuck in summer camp all the way in Wisconsin.
So it was just me. And my room. And my phone. And the walls I swore were closing in on me.
Every morning, I scrolled. TikTok, Instagram, YouTube. I’d tell myself, “Just 10 minutes.” Then two hours would pass, and I was still in my pajamas, lying in bed, feeling like I hadn’t moved at all. The days started to blend together. Monday felt like Wednesday. Saturday didn’t even feel special anymore.
I stopped doing the stuff I used to like. Drawing felt pointless. Reading felt boring. I even stopped playing music, which is crazy because I love music. The weird thing is, I didn’t really notice how much I was changing until one day my mom peeked into my room and said, “When was the last time you went outside?”
I blinked at her. “Um … Tuesday?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Oh.”
That’s when I realized something was off. I didn’t feel like myself. I was getting cranky over little things. My chest felt heavy all the time, like I was carrying something I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know what to call it. I just knew that the longer I stayed stuck in this “nothing to do” loop, the worse I felt.
I thought summer was supposed to be fun. But for me, it felt like a trap.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking about how weird everything had gotten. I remembered when I used to ride by bike every day, or when I’d bake cookies just because I wanted the house to smell like chocolate. Those memories felt far away, like they belonged to someone else.
But the next morning, I did something different.
I got up early. I didn’t even touch my phone. I made toast, put on my sneakers, and went outside. The sun felt warm on my face. The grass was wet from the sprinklers. I didn’t do anything major, I just walked for ten minutes. But it helped.
The next day, I walked again. I texted Maya, and I even started writing in the journal I said I was going to start.
I’m not saying everything is fixed now. Some days still feel slow. But I’m learning that just because I have “nothing to do” doesn’t mean I have to do nothing. I can make my own little moments; I can find myself again.
And maybe, just maybe, this summer won’t be wasted after all.
