I’m afraid that I have a confession to make. Forgive me, and fix me. As I write and edit this article, my focus is elsewhere. My mind is somewhere else. The care I once had faded into nothingness, so much so that I’m writing this the day it’s due. The dopamine races through my brain as I write, knowing the clock is ticking down the hours I have left to turn this in. I had weeks to start this article, and I chose to start it on the last possible day I could. To make matters worse, this is not even the first time or the first assignment where I did this. Every assignment this year has been a product of procrastination.
For me, the problem always lies at the beginning. Every project, every paper, and every hobby has never stood a chance and never will. It always starts the same: I pick up my pen, but no words are ever written. I try to start at the beginning, but the only thing that ever gets written is the date, and sometimes that gets left blank. I always end it before I begin, and I couldn’t tell you why, even if I was forced to say it. I do not know why I never want to start, at least not until I run out of time. It does not matter what I start – the problem remains the same. It could be a paper due in a month or a passion project. Lately, I have only begun something when time is running out.
It is infuriating. Knowing that this is my life now eats at me. Desperation and fear cloud my vision as I write. Why is it that I would instead do anything else than just start? Starting something should not be so hard, yet something tells me that taming a wild animal would be easier than starting something. I didn’t even want to begin this article if the evidence was already unclear. Writing was once my escape, and now, it’s as if I’m writing this article against my will. The fact that this is my life now is fate crueler than death. To live without motivation is to not live at all.
I used to be different. Any work that I turned in was almost always my best. I had side projects and passions. It was different. But now? Now, I have a hundred thrown-out titles of projects that I never started. I pace back and forth in my room, knowing that my ten-page paper is due at midnight. New habits die fast, and old ones never stick. My yoga mat has not been used in weeks, and I barely remember the last time I went out for a walk. Sleep evades me, and fear drives me. Every bone in my body is screaming at me. I know this is wrong, and living this way is not the way to live, but I still refuse to do anything to change it. My grades aren’t affected; only my body suffers. While I might procrastinate, I have never once handed any assignments late, and my grades are fine. In my mind, this lifestyle only starts to become dangerous when my grades no longer give me validation. Until then, the idea of changing holds zero interest to me – no matter how much I might want to change.
I even tried begging once, but my prayers went unanswered, and my knees just turned bloody. It seems as if my fate was written then, the only thing that’s ever been. I’ve been cursed with the fate of never doing anything significant because all my pens seem to run out of ink at the beginning of the page.
I wish things were different. I wish I was a girl who actually evolved. If I was, I would know better. I wish life did not require so much energy to live; even eating feels like a chore and takes energy out of me. I do not know when this started, and I swear I was not always like this. My life really used to be different. I once had ambition and motivation, but I do not know… something happened at the start of senior year and it’s just gone.
I will put up a fight. My knuckles might be bruised, but I’ll make it out alive. This moment will become fleeting and any memories associated will become an afterthought. Until then, I’m afraid the matter of the present hasn’t changed, and the matter is that I lost it. Whatever ambition I once had died with my hopes and dreams. I don’t know how I’ll get it back. Until I do, I fear everything I work on will be half-baked – including this article.
Featured Image By Allison Schmidt
