I Am Alex's Inability to Concentrate

I have an Old Testament exam I should be studying for. You can’t blame me too much for not studying right now. I’m in class right now learning about Binary Search Trees and balancing an AVL Tree. The classroom is too warm, and the weather outside is too cold. Somewhere trapped between the two extremes is my inability to think straight and the cause of my obnoxious sweating. Like most rooms at Cedarville, this one is filled with distractions. There’s the huge windows which allow me to look down toward the Milner and Tyler buildings. There’s that comfy and hideous couch in the corner which no one ever sits in and everyone wonders why it’s even in the room. There’s my notebook paper, which can easily be shredded into a million pieces throughout the course of a class period; it’s amazing how many ways you can rip a small piece of paper. Then, of course, there’s my laptop, which is an infinite source of distraction. Although it’s not necessarily all these distractions that are the source of my inability to focus. They just feed it when it’s hungry.

I am Alex’s inability to concentrate. Merely a child of his ADD mind and obsessive compulsive characteristics. I’m the reason he counts his steps. I’m the reason he over thinks every situation. I’m the reason he studies minute details that nobody else notices. I’m the reason he walks in syncopation with the music on his headphones. And in a contrasting sort of way, I’m the reason he can’t concentrate on nothing and fall asleep at night.

I make him run potential conversations over in his head, taking every possibly path the conversation might take, traversing every possible scenario even past the point of literal and ethical standards. And I’m also the reason he forgets all the scenarios when finally presented with the aforementioned conversation. I scatter his thoughts and make him forget the sentences he had so carefully constructed.

I’m the reason he taps his foot, shakes his arm, or twitches his hand when most people sit still. I’m the cause of his intermittent thought patterns. I’m the cause of his dazing off, staring at nothing for minutes on end. And I extend far beyond his academic life.

I probably make him feel crazy most of the time, but that’s my job. I’m just doing what I’m meant to do.