The Life and Death of a Paper

Every student knows that crushing feeling of being assigned a paper. It’s like your stomach is falling and you just added another weight to your already drooping shoulders at the same time. Not only the fact that you have to juggle it with your other coursework, but what are you supposed to write about?

Usually my professors are very specific on what they want, but this guy wants to give us "creative freedom," as if I had a creative bone in my body. Maybe if I just put it off, it will get easier? But no, I can't procrastinate; I have to be a good student this semester, I promised myself this much.

I've finally sat down to start my paper. I have my coffee next to me, black, two sugars. I'll be good for another few hours. I've had words swirling in my head all night and I'm finally ready to create something my professor will want to read. I open my laptop and...nothing. It's like an abyss has suddenly descended upon my mind. No more words, no more ideas...nothing.

I sit back and take a sip of coffee. Surely they'll come back to me, right? The words? Hello?

Dead end. Maybe they can't hear me anymore.

The ideas must've been shit anyway. Clearly, if I can't remember them there was no point to begin with...right? And what's the point anyway? Who am I to put my voice out there? Who would actually want to read what I have to say? My professor surely won’t like my ideas and I’ll get a poor grade anyway.

I don't lead an interesting life; I’m just another college kid trying to make it in the world. I don’t have much to pull from here. What could I possibly have to say that other people will want to hear? But the words have been haunting me all night and I need to get them out. They were basically screaming at me, "WRITE ME DOWN!" But their screams have died down now. It was as if my mind was a crowded school during the day--bustling students running between classes. But I seem to be here at the wrong time now; the lights are off, everyone's gone home.

Why did I start this again? Oh yes. I had a point, at some point, but it's lost on me now. Isn't there anything to help get the words back?

My cat stares at me from across the room. Glaring, as if it's my fault the words have fled. But no, the accusatory look is because her food dish is empty, even though I filled it an hour ago. Doesn't she know I'm supposed to be writing?

I'm distracting myself again. How do people just sit down and do this?

My coffee is almost gone and there’s still not a word written down. "Go to school," they said, "It will be fun," they said. What a crock of shit. Why didn't they tell me how frustrating it would be? Grasping at the tail end of words as they skirt away from me in my mind. It’s an endless cycle of chasing them around in my head. They taunt me when I can’t write them down and when I have the chance to--they flee as if they don’t want to end their game with me. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this kind of lifestyle.

But that can't be right because I have the words; they're just too fast for me at the moment. I can do it another time. I shut my laptop and look around.

Now what?