We've all been there before. It's the day before the paper is due and you're on page one. Actually your on paragraph one. Let's get real. You're on word one. How in the world are you going to write a 11 page paper on the history of the pickle? But seriously, the papers due Monday and you start the paper Sunday night at 9 p.m, but you have to watch your show on TV. So you half type and half watch TV. You look on the page and see your progress. Now you're on word two! Good job!
I'll admit it though. I've done it before. I've stayed up until five in the morning on nothing, but seven cups of coffee, crying every half hour literally because I'm so tired. Then it's going to bed for an hour after that's even worse. What is the point then? So you get up and sit on the couch and stare at the TV, the monster that caused all of this. You realize it's 7:30 a.m. and you get dressed for class, still on nothing more than the seven cups of coffee from the night before.
After finishing my paper and taking the bus, I walk to the library to print out my essay. Of course I have to wait 10 minutes to use a computer, but eventually I get one and log onto my school email. Scrolling. Scrolling. Please tell me I emailed my paper to my email from my laptop. Hello? Are you there God? Is this real? I collapse onto the floor and drown the first floor of the library in my tears. You've definitely been there. That's what we get for doing it the night before. And a midterm too. How could we be so silly? Whether it's a full fledged paper or a chemistry lab, there's nothing better than feeling your eyes budge of your skull the night before it's due.
A week passes by since you've handed in your paper. No, the professor hasn't graded it yet. She has other things to do. Other things to do? Does she understand what you went through? How long you stayed up all night to get this crappy assignment done? She doesn't know because she thinks her class is the only class you're taking. It's all that matters. No honey. Your class low-key sucks. Just like my paper on the history of the pickle.
Two weeks pass by and you're sweating in your seat as she passes the papers back. You got this. You definitely went into explicit detail about the pickle. Or at least as much as you could. You hit the word count and cited everything. I repeat, you got this. She folds the paper halfway as she puts it on your desk. Your heart rate increases as you flip it over. Wow! An F!
Another week passes by and you arranged to meet her at her office hours. You knock on the door and step inside when you're invited in. "I'm going to need you to read the assignment prompt to me," she says, before you even have a chance to argue. "Please write an 11 page paper on the history of the cucumber." God damn it.
