A 3½ page paper tagged with red words: “use an anecdote,” “run-on-sentence,” “why are you writing this?” “Looking at my personal essay I realize how impersonal it is. A dry, bleak, humorless, story failing to capture a memory within its words, and the vibrant Indifference in writing resonates from the red letters upon every page. When I first wrote my personal essay I was so intent on striving for perfection with every line that I failed in writing an essay that was at all interesting or personal. Reading over the essay, the paper dated two days before, I realize that my procrastinating nature in writing diminishes a large amount of interest in whatever I am writing. Even if it’s a topic I really like once the psychological disease called procrastination takes over it produces effects of red and blue words of critique upon a black and white paper.

Often too many times I fall into the lethargic pattern of procrastinating and then later being overwhelmed by the vast selection of words, and sinking into my indecisive nature, unable to articulate my thoughts and memories through letters and words. Not to mention the inability to remember vivid memories of my past. Instead just small clips and scenes viewed through an out-of-focus lens. So when it comes to trying to capture these hazy memories, I struggle to fill in the segments between the blurred scenes. However I do remember a vivid memory of my childhood. My curiosity fueled my love for literature, and writing. Making constant trips to the library and viewing my first library card as a credit card purchasing new adventures with every scan or swipe. Unconcerned by my haphazard style of writing I enjoyed writing very much, showing off my imagination to the world in creative writing essays.

Oppose to how my enthusiasm for writing is presently, simply another task in my list of chores, shifted to the bottom. Giving up on the need to write grammatically correct sentences I resent the green line underlining my words upon my screen. Now I just rush through the entire process lying words on the paper one after another, as if I’m running towards the end of the paper. The finish line not a line at all, but a body of words called the conclusion.

The end, but then I’m back at the beginning jumping back and forth with my words, constantly changing tense. As if it’s an expression of the chaotic collection of thoughts within my mind. Indifferently I let the words spill onto the screen through inputs from pressed keys created grammatically incorrect sentences. At times this usually always occurs due to my mind being distracted be it checking facebook and responding to wall posts; watching a favorite show on TV; or falling in to a mode where the only voices paid any attention to are those over xbox live, when playing video games. My mind wanders so easily when it comes to homework.
When I arrive home after practice, my backpack plays its second role. To lie next to a bed, pockets closed nothing breaching the barrier created by the zipper. This really only adds more wood to the fire of my procrastination burning up time with every second spent with every school unrelated activity. During the times when I would hear Mr. Lessing or Mr. Soffer read aloud an essay that they felt was deserving of recognition, I would often think how could someone write something as good as that. Afterwards frequently doubting my work and realizing how heavy the load of cons in my writing weighed, pros failing to even be recognized upon the scale. Although my nature when it comes to time management makes it difficult to write a good quality paper, after hearing a first paper written by a fellow student read by Mr. Lessing, I doubt that I could even create a paper that would achieve a rank worthy of recognition. So then I fall back into my indifferent disposition towards writing.

Indifferent towards writing is another effect, or at least pertaining to me, when it comes to declining into a state infested with procrastination, eating away time and interest. So upon reading over this 3½ black white and red personal essay lying on my desk, I realized that I could write that first-class paper deserving of recognition. The only thing keeping me from doing so is the guy in the mirror showcasing my faults with a smile.