I did nothing day in, day out. For years at a stretch.

Throughout my college years, I’d sit in my house for months on end and watch television. I wouldn’t step out of the house.

That was my life in a nutshell.

I never did drugs, or smoked or even had alcohol. But I never played sports, studied or talked to people either. The minimal attempts I did make, didn’t end well and that made me stay inside even more.

Well, I attributed all of this to procrastination and laziness. Those things feel comfortable. I was content within my bubble.

Until gradually the feeling of indifference started creeping in. It was slow.

It started with me losing all interest in having a career or a job or any kind of progress. Then I started questioning if it things like money or relationships, even matter.

Then it was indifference towards people around me and daily life in general. I no longer cared what anyone did or when a day ended. On a Monday, I’d figure it was a Wednesday and on a Wednesday, I wouldn’t even ask myself what day it is.

And finally, one day I caught myself thinking “I don’t really care if a bus hits me.”

I didn’t attempt to kill myself because I knew, from personal experience, the impact it has on the people who are left behind. But I felt I’d seen it all and done it all (even though I hadn’t seen much). The only way was downhill, so why bother trying?

A small part of my mind, in a rare moment of clarity, thought “This is more than just laziness and procrastination.”

I realized what it was. And that’s when I started fighting back. Bit by bit. Small steps.

Those small steps have gathered into large leaps now, where I feel content and aware.

Sometimes that phase of my life, that state of mind and those thoughts, still want to pull me back into a sense of false comfort to start with.

That’s a battle I fight everyday. And I’m winning everyday, so far.