It is 3:03 am Central time. I’m in the middle of my last college paper. I procrastinated. Duh. My college career has come full circle. I got in after submitting my application on the deadline. And now I’m nearing the deadline for this paper. At first I thought nothing of it. I’ve been a procrastinator since as far as I can remember. It’s what I do. But contemplating this, instead of writing my paper, I look further into this particular instance. This paper is supposed to be six pages, Times New Roman, single-spaced. It was assigned a month ago. I should be done by now. I started it, maybe last week. I’m about two thirds of the way through. I keep finding ways to not finish it. At this point I tell myself that I can’t find a way to expand on my thoughts. I got out what I wanted to say in less words than allotted. Which is weird in and of itself because normally I elaborate too much. But I think that’s the point. I think subconsciously I don’t want to finish this paper. Finishing this paper means finishing my college career. Done. That’s a scary thought. It’s not scary because I don’t know what I’m going to do right after this. Though that is kinda scary too. It’s scary because I’m afraid of the limitless possibilities that come after. The uncertainty of what comes next. So many people my age are getting married and having kids. I can barely take care of myself. How am I expected to start taking care of another human? How am I expected to share my life with someone else when I don’t even know what my life is? I don’t feel ready for this. I’m supposed to walk across that stage Friday morning and I’m not ready. A&M may say that I’m ready. That piece of paper may vouch for me, but I don’t believe it. These past four years have taught me a lot. Just not enough. They’ve been fun. Perhaps too fun. Time to swallow that pill and be an adult. Wish me luck.