I sit in front of a luminescent white screen. The ominous tiny black cursor mocks me while repeatedly flashing. I ponder my thesis:
Societal conformity is exposed as ironic by the authors Albert Camus and Gabriel Garcia Marquez through their use of imagery describing the beliefs and actions of their characters in The Stranger and Chronicle of a Death Foretold.
"shit"
I have been at this for about an hour and a half now, my Nerds candy box already empty. The low hum of a indie band is ringing in my ears from the speakers. Anything would be better than this.
Procrastination is a thing of beauty; or for some, a characteristic far worse than annoying. I cannot help but to procrastinate when it comes to essays: who wants to write them? The structure in which we are demanded to write it in none the least is horrific enough, but taking time out of our lives to write a 1,000-1,500 word essay about a topic that we will most likely never think about again after this year is torture.
I keep finding excuses to not do this essay; surfing random websites, Facebook stalking, and texting are some of the few ways to completely bypass this ill-fated task.
It's obvious what I need to do, I just refuse to.
My sanity has reached its limit; my motivation lacks a great deal.
But alas, I must complete this burden.
Goodbye, Sanity. You will be sorely missed.