My innate urge to procrastinate vs. my self-preservation: WHO WILL WIN?

Do you ever hit that point in writing an essay where you’re ALMOST DONE… you’re in the homestretch, you can see the finish line… and you just can’t crank out any more coherent sentences?

I’m writing this essay on women in the Middle Ages, and I’ve got one more body paragraph to go as well as the conclusion. The paragraph, however, is an undignified mess of sloppy ideas that a five-year-old could have written with better clarity, and the conclusion doesn’t even exist. The conclusion is just a space at the end where I wrote [CONCLUSION] and trusted my future self to come up with something brilliant.

But it’s 11:20 pm, and I’ve clocked out for the night. Basically, around 6 I decided to start just dicking around until I could reasonably say, “Ah, well, it’s too late now; I can’t possibly write anything good at this hour.” This essentially means I was dicking around for about five hours while writing the occasional sentence that I immediately backspaced. This essay is due tomorrow at midnight, so I have time, but I also have a persistent knack for making things harder than they need to be. So, things are going to start getting really, really interesting around 11.

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