Memoirs of an Amnesiac

She took a bath earlier this morning, hoping to refresh her rather laggard senses brought about by the torrid summer heat. As she dries her hair with the towel, her mind wanders to the many things she had to do and accomplish, things she had set her mind to do should she have the day to herself. She had all the reason in the world (including those that have yet to be excavated) why she had not started just even browsing one page of the books she needs to study for the examination she believes will affect, if not, mark the rest of her life.

She claims to be someone whose mind could not work creatively unless under pressure (a truly loop-sided excuse from someone who just doesn't want to start anything at all.) She would pride at things she had accomplished at the eleventh hour as if she is one of those Extreme Makeover contestants, yet inside her she thinks they're all haphazardly done.

She searches her room for something that could motivate her to start and begins to browse through pages of a kid's almanac. Her mind wanders again (as it is wont to do) to things she needs to post on her blog. Topics she had been holding on like a firefly on a dark and cold night. She begins to open her laptop to her most visited pages, scrolling for anything that catches her fancy, all the while convincing herself that soon she will start and she will not end the day until she accomplishes anything. Oh the typical mindset of an idealist!

One idea blossoms from another and she is a long distance away from where she had set herself to do. Her hair is beginning to dry now without her noticing it. Her eyes begin to close on their own, as if some robot with an AI mindset. Her brain fights off the urge, to no avail.

As she gives in to the exhaustion, she told herself that it could wait for another day.

So she closes her eyes and bids the conscious world goodbye.