The Art of Silent Breathing

I came here for silence. Solace. Enlightenment. Or at least a stable Wi-Fi connection and a desk near an outlet. But what I got instead is everyone in this library breathing like they’re auditioning for a horror film. It’s so loud. Why does every inhale sound like a passive-aggressive sigh? Why is someone exhaling like the weight of the world is on their chest and somehow, mine too? I don’t blame them, the opposite. I can literally see them exhaling stress. My anxious mind just gets annoyed when people start huffing in the silent area. 

I’m a third-year IBCOM student, thesis mode (fully) activated, graduation dangling in front of me like a carrot I’m not even sure I want anymore. The weather is finally improving; sunny, crisp, hopeful. And yet here I am, inside, being slowly suffocated by artificial lighting and the thick, soupy air of collective panic.

The library looks nice, with all its big windows and natural light, until at some point in the morning, they always randomly drop the blinds like they’re protecting us from joy. “No sunshine for you,” they’re saying. “You chose stress.” It’s like being inside a very polite, academically sanctioned prison.

I put in my earplugs to block out the gasping and fidgeting and very aggressive pen-clicking. But even then, I can hear the ksshh of an energy drink opening three rows away. The soft scratching of desperation on paper. Taps on keyboards like Morse code for “kill me.”

And yet, there’s something oddly beautiful about this silent mess. We’re all in it. Breathing too loud. Blinking too slow. Chasing deadlines together. The girl across from me is highlighting aggressively; the guy two desks down just dropped his flashcards and didn’t even react. Nobody talks, but we all know: we’re barely holding it together. And somehow, that makes it easier to keep going.

There’s comfort in the chaos. In knowing you’re not alone in the quiet. Misery may not love company, but burnout does.

So I stay. I type. I breathe (quietly). And I remind myself: one last thing to do. Do it right.

Then I exhale. Loudly. Outside.