I arrive home looking like I have dumbells hanging from my eyes in pure exhaustion. My back aches in agony due to the tons of manuals inside of my torn and worn out Nike backpack, accurately representing my current state of mind. Lately, most of my days have been consisting of cramming mathematical formulas, Shakespearean dialog and an entirely foreign language into the confined space of my brain. Out of the 16 hours I’m awake, I’m spending five and half hours sitting on a desk learning new information, four hours writing essays for three different courses, another four hours revising math problems and only getting two and a half hours of relaxation. I reach for my books, slap them on the kitchen table what seem like boulders falling from the sky and slump my butt down onto the faux leather chair, praying to God that he’ll bring me a miracle to take me out of my misery.

It isn’t until around 4:30 that I notice what seems to be a miracle shining brightly in the living room. Our long brown cushioned livingroom couch piled with plumpy pillows and throw blankets in the luminous light of the sun. For a little while, I calculate the hours of slumber I’ve had for the last few nights and come to the realization that a 30-minute power nap would improve my concentration immensely. I walk to the couch and suddenly get sucked into the comfort of the cushions. They’re quite old, but compared to the plastic chairs at school, it feels like I’m on a cloud. I grab my cozy wool blanket and let it swaddle me to sleep.

After being awoken by the screeching coffee grinder, I jolt up and discover that my mother’s home, which means it’s past dinnertime. I check for the time and realize that I had taken six power naps in a row. Chills start making their way through my nerves and send me into a complete frenzy. Am I going to have time to go over everything for the test? I think to myself. To be able to pass over all the content, an all-nighter has to be executed.

I come home the next day feeling defeated from the math test as if it swept away all my knowledge with a Swiffer sweeper the moment I sat at my desk. This is the first time I’m truly questioning whether I passed any sort of assignment or not, and I need to ensure I do the rest of my work well. Tonight, I need to answer comprehension questions on “Macbeth”, which is sure to take the amount of time it takes for a turtle to run a marathon.

I start up Google Docs and stare at the blinding blank white page. Only one thought sits in my head, “all of your ideas stink like rotten eggs”.  It’s true, anything I think of reminds me of how badly my math test went. The last thing I want to do is mortally screw up some of the greatest literature to exist. My mother comes in all of a sudden to tell me that she plans on heading up to our family cottage and mentions that I am welcome to come. As much as my brain is begging for me to stay, do the right thing and finish these questions, my heart tells me that I should let the ocean air fill my nostrils with salty goodness and let the south shore wind gusts blow away my fears. By the end of the day, I find my inner peace through the sound of waves crashing along the bank.

A few weeks have gone by since I started giving myself a little more freedom, and the time I’m dedicating to it is only piling up like bricks. I start planning my evenings so that I have a certain schedule to follow. At this point, I’m cracking my dusty books open at dusk, giving myself some quality time with the sunshine in order to stay content. I also find that anything to draw my attention away from my main priority. Just the other day, I was lured into my garden by the petunias tickling my nose asking me to sniff their aroma, about seven times.

My mother is starting to see this as a problem, so she decides to sit me down on the couch, however, it feels more like she’s having me sit on a pile of nails. “Lately, it seems like you haven’t been focusing on your homework as much, you’ve been procrastinating more than I’ve ever seen. It may seem like a way to give you a sense of comfort when you’re feeling stressed, but in reality, it’s only going to make your life as an adult much more difficult. You won’t be able to do as well as you are now, you may not even graduate.” All I mainly hear from her speech are the adults' dialogues from Charlie Brown, but one word sticks out and that's procrastination. “Is this what I have been doing for the last few weeks?” I think to myself. Whatever it is, I like it because for once in high school, the pressure of agonizing homework isn’t pulling me by my hair, at least not yet.

It’s has been a year since procrastination has entered my front door. At that time, it seemed like such a comforting companion who fed me ice cream. Now I know that it’s only the typical two-faced school girl looking to poke fun at me. And boy did it ever, almost to the point where it’s impossible to escape the cage it’s locked me in. By the end of the semester last year, I had failed two of my required courses to graduate, which meant I had to redo them. Even if I’ve already done these courses, my grades today are nowhere near the excellence of last years. Last year I felt like Albert Einstein, this year I feel like Homer Simpson. My teachers tell me that at this level of performance, it is impossible for me to further my education beyond high school and that keeping up with university professors expectations is an expedition through the Himalayas. Being the odd one out in my grade is one of the worst feelings. The stone cold looks of well-minded students younger than you can pierce your heart harder than cupid’s arrow ever could.

Turns out the stress that would get wiped away was secretly planning a heist, and boy did they win. It can sometimes get to the point where I cry myself to sleep, and that happens frequently enough. Procrastination is constantly plucking my nerves one by one, triggering each of my emotions to project out of my empty body. If I could say something to my enemy when it first came around, I would tell it to leave me and my issues. Whenever I have kids, I’ll have them ready to kick procrastinations butt before they can relive my life as a student.