May 1, 2012
By Tahlia DeCory BRONZE, Kingman, Arizona
Tahlia DeCory BRONZE, Kingman, Arizona
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Work is for the overachievers. They work and work to prove their worth. But not me, I don't need to prove myself for anyone.
Only myself.
It doesn't take much to make myself proud, a couple of smart answers and a pat on the back will set me for weeks.
I don't even get that most times.
But I just shrug and go on with my uneventful life.
Homework. School work. In class work. Bellwork. So much work in so little time. So much things to juggle in two hands.
Hell, maybe I'll learn how to balance things with my feet next. But that may take awhile, considering I'm having trouble balancing what I have now.
There are those moments, those very special moments, where I will feel productive. I'll wake up and say to myself, 'Isn't this a great day to finish the assignment that is due tomorrow... and is worth 1000% of your grade?!'
Then I'd shut up that productive little voice with a day of laughter and Productiveness'es distant cousin, Procrastination.
I never said I was actually productive when the time came.
But there are also those days where I'm too lazy for anything, even breathing.
And those are the days where my very much predictable life decides to throw me a bone.
'It's so beautiful out today. Why don't you--'
'There's this really cool--'
Not a chance.
Not a chance. I'll just lay here face first on the ground and be a rock.
My mother comes home from work, cooks and cleans.
And what do I do?
My self proclaimed job is that risky run of putting my dirty plate in the sink while she's washing them.
I consider myself the supervisor of the household.
But there is always that guilt.
The one feeling that makes me angry and confused. Confused at my anger and angry at my confusion.
'It's your own damned fault. You're too lazy.' That annoying voice in my head says.
That's when the anger sets in, the anger at the world. I have no idea why I'm mad at the world, I just am.
'You never help around the house, never cook or clean. You're just like a huge child. How would you make it on your own?' My inner voice yells.
But who said I would even make it that far.
Maybe I'll be the next student in line to fail.
Straight F's and no hope for the future.
Just another statistic on the student drop out chart. At the pace I'm going it wouldn't be a huge surprise for myself.
But would I be able to ever look in my parents eyes again? Into the eyes of my family and friends, into the eyes of the people who believed in me?
I would commit my eyes to the floor.

The author's comments:
This essay was a response to Anne Lamot's essay on Jealousy. This essay was chosen from the 7 deadly sins, and as the title says, I chose sloth.

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