bloody sunday

Lazy Sunday my fucking ass. It's 5 in the morning and I'm still sitting here. Spent the night talking to H and listening to Louis C.K. when what I really should have been doing is this STUPID FUCKING ESSAY THAT I HATE. It is so incredibly frustrating, I was at Troy's house the other night trying to get it done and I got about a page and a half into it and then biked home because he was going to bed, and I so wasn't into that.

Men - the ones you're not attracted to think about you exclusively with their dicks and the ones you like are complete and utter cowards. Horseshit. I utterly despise these whingey cunts that seem to permeate my life. (whingey cunts c/o Damien, as if I could ever come up with something so heinously clever) And people wonder why I dislike socializing. Maybe I was never socialized properly as a child.

Back to the problem at hand. This bitch of an essay. I was saying to Troy, it's worse than childbirth is ever going to be, not that I'm itching for it. I get it. I'm an intelligent kid, I can write and be eloquent, but this essay really just has me down in the dumps. It was supposed to be handed in almost three weeks ago, and then Prof let me know I could hand it in this Friday as marks go in on Monday. So what do I do? I don't do it. I don't know why. If someone was sitting behind me with a desert eagle at my temple they would soon be guilty of murder. I am completely incapable of getting this done. So I'm sitting here trying, trying so hard and it's just the most frustrating thing ever. I'm tempted to take my laptop and throw it out my window. A window that will soon be lit up by dawn.

And for what? So that I can email this to Prof, and MAYBE if he's benevolent, MAYBE he'll accept it. And MAYBE I'll get a semi decent mark. Oh it's only worth 30% of the final grade.

What is wrong with me?

It's like some sort of intense fear of failure working against me, driving me towards it.

I've wasted enough time.