Malfunctioning

Today I've been industrious. Somewhat. I feel lazy.
I've been doing my essay wrong. I need three outside sources. I've just been using the text since it was what I based my presentation on. Now I have to research the points I've already made and hope I can find quotes that will fit. Now I have to hand it in a day late. Now I'm late for work.
The things I have accomplished are outweighed by what I have not.
Part of me doesn't care.
I was up till 5am this morning.
I don't know why.
I wasn't doing work.
Somewhere inbetween sleeping and thinking.
I'm exhausted and angry with myself for allowing myself to be overwhelmed and procrastinate.
I know that sentence has all sorts of things wrong with it.
Part of me doesn't care.
It's only an essay.
It's only work.
It's only momentary panic.
These things too shall pass.
Life seems long from this perspective. In a few years, I will look back on my former self and laugh at my naivitee.
Still, I feel like my birthday was last week and it's almost part-way through November.
Time is funny like that. Fast, slow...stopping occasionally and passing in the blink of an eye. Can we control it? Or are we at the whim of Time?
If I fail my courses this semester and have to go back to school next year, will I *really* care past my initial upset?
I know I am capable of great things.
I do not need a piece of paper to tell me that I know my shit.
It's only that my view of the way things should be done differs from the Institution.
I am not a stickler for details like deadlines, MLA format and correct word selection.
If the idea is sound, what matters the execution? Does that somehow detract from the validity of the arguement?
So why do I still feel like a loser who can't do anything right?
Like I've let myself down for not finishing my work on time.
Society has trained me well.
Am I to live my life constantly ensconsed in guilt?
Sometimes I wish I was someone else.
Sometimes I could burst for being so happy to be me.
What are you doing to me, Life?
Listen, I like rollercoasters and all, but even I get sick from constantly spinning.
Stop.
Shower.
Go to work.
This is enough.
Enough.