The Bane Of My Existence: Procrastination | Teen Ink

The Bane Of My Existence: Procrastination

April 12, 2012
By stormie. GOLD, Toronto, Other
stormie. GOLD, Toronto, Other
14 articles 0 photos 16 comments

Favorite Quote:
ѕcаттεя мε аcяоѕѕ тнε ѕкy; аи∂ juѕт lιкε а ѕтая, ι'll ѕнιиε fоя yоu.♥

The clock ticks sluggishly as the teacher drones on and on about things the students don’t care for. You glance at the clock to make sure it didn’t stop working.
Five minutes left to go.
You sigh dejectedly and glance back at the front of the classroom, attempting to pay attention to what the teacher is saying. You zone out almost instantly.
Suddenly, the bell rings signalling the end of the period. All around you students jump out of their seats and grab their backpacks. You join the crowd at the door, hurrying to get out of school and to get started on everything you have planned for the weekend.

“Remember to finish your essays that are due on Monday!” The teacher calls to the class as you all make your exit.
You make a noncommittal sound and head for your locker. After grabbing your coat and books, you say goodbye to your friends and make your way outside. You can’t seem to get out of there fast enough. You burst through the doors and take a deep breath. Two whole days away from school, you think to yourself with a big smile on your face. You quickly jog to your parent’s car, not bothering to give the building behind you another glance.
You throw your backpack in the trunk and sink into the backseat, sighing happily.
“What did you do at school today?” your mother asks you.
“Oh, the usual.” you say.
“How much homework you have for the weekend?”
“Not much,” you reply. “I just have to do an essay.”
She takes your word for it and starts the car. Soon, you’re out of the parking lot and on your way home.
Upon your arrival at home, you dump your backpack on the floor of your room, where it is forgotten for the rest of the weekend. You go downstairs again and watch TV for the rest of the day.
“Don’t you have homework?” your mother asks you.
“Don’t worry, mom. I have the weekend to finish it,” you reply, not taking your eyes off of the TV screen.
After watching your favourite TV shows and two movies, you finally make your way to your room and pass out on your bed. The next day you spend surfing the Net and catching up on everything you missed on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr over the week. Your friend invites you to go to the movies in the evening with a group of your classmates. You agree and quickly get ready to head out.
Your mother stops you at the door, “What about your homework? When are you going to write that essay?”
“I still have tomorrow, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll do it then,” you assure her and walk out to meet up with your friends.
You have a wonderful time out at the movies, chatting and hanging out with your friends. The essay is brought up in the conversation. All of your other friends are either finished or close to being finished. When they ask you about it, you tell them that you’re going to do it tomorrow, before changing the topic to which movie you’re going to see.
The next day you sleep until noon. After waking up, you laze around the entire day, not doing anything productive. It’s eleven o’clock at night before you remember the essay that’s due tomorrow. You run up to your room and try to start writing the essay. With only hours before it’s due, the pressure is intense.
Your fingers stumble over the keyboard, trying to type the words as fast as you’re coming up with them. Your concentration is constantly broken by the instant messages popping up on your screen from various friends. You sign out of all social networking sites to help you keep focus. After putting the final touches on your essay, you sit back and sigh with relief. You stretch your arms and neck, hearing the small cracks they make after being in the same position for so long. You look at the clock and balk at the numbers shown there.
It’s 3:00 am.
You drop onto your bed and promptly fall asleep. The next morning, you wake up groggily and make your way to school. You greet your friends in class, who look wide-awake and cheerful—unlike you. The teacher collects all the essays and continues with the lesson. You heave a sigh of relief after finally handing it in. It’s over and done with; you don’t have to think about that stupid essay ever again.
Or so you think.
When your teacher hands back the marked essays a few days later, you stare in disbelief at the failing mark at the top of the page. You quickly stuff the wretched thing at the bottom of your backpack, out of sight.
When Friday rolls around, you wait anxiously for the bell to ring once more. As soon as it does, everyone makes a mad dash for the door, ignoring the teacher’s last words. However, you pause at your seat and listen closely.
“Remember to finish the assignment you received today in class for Monday!”
Your friends call your name from the hallway, telling you to hurry up. You gather your things and leave the classroom.
“Wanna go see that new horror movie that’s coming out tomorrow?” one of them asks you.
You shake your head and apologize, “Sorry, I can’t. I have a lot of homework to do this weekend.”

The author's comments:
An essay I wrote in my Writer's Craft course at school. I think many people can relate.

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