Every child hates school, right?

I mean, it's expected for a progressive hatred to form.










On the assumption that everyone else follows this pattern just like me, I will describe the cycle I have fallen into.

I get set an essay.



Usually, despite being told exactly how to do it, and knowing all I need to about the topic, I have no idea what to do.

I will sit at my computer for hours on end each night (slight lie, I usually only attempt things at the last possible moment unless I know I can do it), just staring at a blank document, almost waiting for the words to appear.



Occasionally, I will glare at the screen angrily, almost as if a wizard should be magically summoning words for me.



Once I have either procrastinated the entire evening like so;



or simply sat in that position attempting the essay the whole time, it will eventually get extremely late. When it does I look like some form of monster in need of medical treatment.

As I force myself to leave the laptop and go to bed, the brief suicide thought crosses my mind (yes, my teachers are that bad) along with various options of how I can survive the next day.

It varies from illness of all types to difficulties to problems at home to honesty (which is rarely chosen due to my vivid imaginations' depiction of such an event).



Depending on which choice is chosen, I may end up in school and when it gets to the lesson, I writhe, waiting for the moment of truth.



At my level of education however, it either never comes as you are trusted to be truthful about handing in homework and all that shit, or you get the guilt trip talk, depending on the teacher.



I find that one pretty rough - maybe we should protest and get teachers done for psychological harm.

Anyway, there's an alternative route though, because I might not have gone to school...
In which case, I'll have spent my day wisely, doing the essay and other pieces of homework, and giving in the essay the next day.

Who am I kidding?



After either of these, the cycle repeats, with the essay becoming later and later, still unfinished. Sometimes I managed a paragraph or two, and get excited only to realise how much I still have to write.

Eventually I either do it or... well, I don't know what comes next because I haven't found out yet.

Basically I write something like this. So not only am I worrying about the essay, I'm worrying about worrying about the essay and also worrying about worrying about worrying about the essay.
It's a vicious, like a shark inbred with a pig.



I'd be pretty vicious too if I was inbred like that.

UPDATE:
I'm quite disappointed in myself with the fact that I'm actually writing this essay now, even though it'll be two weeks late tomorrow.

Looks like I'll never find out what the other outcome could be...