Dear Procrastination,
Truly, I doubt I will ever understand how devilishly handsome you are. It's almost as if you wear a delicious cologne that consists of pure euphoria with a hint of utopia. You make it seem as if the world is truly at my fingertips, yet you always make it so that all of my goals and dreams are just beyond my reach.
How is it that now, in the most crucial part of first semester, you are hitting me the hardest? There are many far more attractive, intelligent, verbose, and creative people out there that need a heavy dose of you; if not to help lessen the agony you are causing me, then to even out the playing field. Seriously, go away. You're making it that much harder for my dream of straight As to appear.
I do not think you understand, Procrastination, I seriously need to do well this semester. With the stress of internships, job applications, and parental pressure, I need to succeed. No, have to. So as much as I do enjoy your little flirtation now and then, what with the wonderful afternoons filled with Netflix and Chill, iFunny, and the beautiful thing that is the Buzzfeed app, I must focus.
Yes, yes, I know that those memes with Grumpy Cat are hilarious but right now I need to write my Odyssey article. No, seriously, stop, I cannot stalk people from high school on Instagram right now! I know she dyed her hair hot pink, but I simply cannot allow myself to be fixated on such a random decision right now.
"It will be okay, I will just wake up super early tomorrow and finish everything," said everyone, but never actually happens. Maybe I should just skip class one day, that way I will be able to get caught up on everything, but then I just know you will turn up again, Procrastination. You just love to devour all of my motivation and excitement, don't you? Is that for you, what chocolate is to me? Does my motivation taste like milk or white chocolate? I hope you're allergic.
Go away. Seriously, you can be so much fun, but I believe it is about time for you to pack your bags and go. No, you can't cling to my shoulders like Yoda, you will never be as cool as him. The force is not strong with you! Or, actually you seem more like a parasite than Yoda. This is not like one of those symbiotic relationships we learned about in the eighth grade. I will not let you suck away my creative juices!
To conclude, Procrastination, you are not welcome to reside in my brain and turn me into some mindless entertainment-guzzling, chocolate-hoarding, ditzy machine.
