Hey guys, welcome back to my corner of the internet. 🤍
I’m writing this from my bed, surrounded by a mountain of laundry I’ve been ignoring for three days, with about fifteen open tabs of unfinished assignments staring at me from my laptop. If you clicked on this post because you're feeling completely suffocated by school right now... honestly, same. Pull up a blanket, grab a snack, and let’s just talk about it. Because I am so tired of everyone pretending this is normal.
There is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes with being a teenage girl right now, and it’s not the kind you can just sleep off over the weekend.
It’s waking up at 6:30 AM to an alarm that feels like an actual physical blow. It’s staring at your ceiling for ten minutes, calculating exactly how many absences you have left before you lose credit, weighing the consequences of just closing your eyes and letting the day happen without you.
When people talk about the "struggle of school," they usually think it’s about a hard math test or a heavy textbook. But if you’re in it right now, you know it’s so much deeper than that. It’s the total, crushing weight of having absolutely zero motivation, and the overwhelming guilt that comes with it.
The "Gifted Kid" Burnout is So Real
A lot of us spent years being the girls who "had potential." We got the good grades, we organized our planners with colorful highlighters, and we cared. We cared so much.
But somewhere along the line, the fuel just completely ran out. Now, looking at a simple worksheet or a Canvas announcement feels like trying to climb a mountain. You know you need to do it. You know the zeros are piling up in the portal, turning into a sea of red. You can practically hear your parents’ upcoming lectures playing on a loop in your head.
And yet? You just... can’t. You sit on your bed, staring at the open tab, feeling completely paralyzed. You want to care, but your brain is just offline.
The Performance of It All
Being a girl in school today means you aren't just expected to do well; you’re expected to look effortless doing it.
You have to navigate the social minefields of the hallways, worry about what you're wearing, maintain your friendships, answer texts, think about college/the future, and somehow find the mental energy to care about an essay written three hundred years ago. You have to put on the armor every single morning, even when you feel completely hollow inside.
By the time you get home, your brain is fried. Your phone becomes both a lifeline and a trap—a way to numb the anxiety, even though scrolling TikTok for three hours just makes you feel worse because everyone else seems to have their life together (spoiler: they don’t, it's all a filter).
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