Today I spent 8 hours in the library to finish a 5 page paper that I had already done all the research for. When I came home it took me an hour an 15 minutes and like that I was done with my last college assignment.
This posting isn't about complaining over writing this paper- it was actually a very interesting topic, but instead sheer disappointment over my poor acting. I wasn't fooling anyone, especially myself, it's obvious why I took so long to write something so perfunctory. I didn't want to say good-bye and I didn't want it to be over.
I am going to miss the stress and the worry the most. I'm going to crave the anxiety that makes how much I care salient and tangible. I've spent years personifying stress so he'll push me harder and remind me where I'm going. It feels as though with out that next deadline I'm going to lose track of time. With out time I don't have goals and with out goals I have no way of defining myself.
I was too obvious about why I spent 8 hours in the library. I'm not ready to let go.