Screaming

My mind is screaming at me. "No, no, no! Start your essay! Don't procrastinate. Send an e-mail to your contact who can help you write it! You know he has a degree in Linguistics, and that he's multilingual, and that he's more than happy to help you write a good essay."

My mind keeps screaming. To quiet the terror of an essay due in only a few days, I decide to write. Better to write than mindlessly consume media on Reddit. I was about to do that, but then I realized that I get terribly lost living vicariously through other people's ideas.

The terror subsides. As long as my fingers move, the despair can't catch up to me. It clutches at me every moment I pause and think about how little time is left in this semester. So I keep writing, hoping that the calm ocean of solitude that my words create keep the monster at bay.

I know I can't swim in this ocean forever, else I get lost and sink, but at least the feeling of being protected allows me to think more rationally.

Okay. A deep breath. I know I can write. I know I have the capacity to string sentences together, and paragraphs, and sections, and I know my capacity to create arguments is there somewhere. But five to eight pag- NO. Stop.

I have found valour's blade once more. Not unlike when Harry Potter summons Gryffindor's sword from the sorting hat and slays the serpent, so too shall I slay this monster of an essay.

"You had so much ti-" SLICE.
"You're wasting tim-" SLASH.
"You're probably going to get a bad ma-" STAB.

The pen is as mighty as the sword.

Signed,
Kaleidoughscope