Senior year is a school year I've waited for in anticipation for more years than I care to count right now. I remember walking into the kitchen when I was 8 or 9 (everything happened when I was 8 or 9), and telling my mom just how much longer it would be until I could drive, and then just how much longer it would be until I would graduate high school. I was excited to get to senior year.
Here I am now, just finishing the first week of senior year. I have been apprehensive over the summer about the choices I need to make this fall, and I feel like I'm under more pressure than my 8 or 9 year old self could've realized. While senior year will hopefully not be a year I wish to skip over in review of my life, it doesn't seem out to a good start.
I'm only "taking" (I am homeschooled, so anything I "take" is from an outside teacher) three classes this semester: French 2, Government 1, and a C.S. Lewis literature course; each class meets once a week, so I have a whole week to complete assignments. This week, I finished my French homework in 3 days, and my government homework the day it was assigned. My only homework left is a combination of essays for Lewis; I have 1000-1,550 total words to write for five different sections of writing.
I cannot begin to explain my frustration over trying to write all day and not completing a single paragraph that makes sense. I have no idea right now how I will do this every week for the next semester and live. That sounds really dramatic; but I promise you, I half-feel like curling up in a hole and dying. That's the unfortunate side to being a perfectionist.
Some how, some way, through many prayers and cups of tea, I will get this done.
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