This is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write. We’ve been friends for, oh, I dunno, how long? Years, maybe decades. I can’t even remember our first rendez-vous – it was that long ago. Maybe high school? When I didn’t want to practice my flute, you were there, providing me with such timewasters as making mix tapes, filing my nails and writing notes to my friends that I would fold up into obscure and unrecognizable attempts at origami.
Our friendship has developed – it’s grown and progressed to the point where you had me telling lies that became so real that I actually believed them myself. I’m not allergic to bee stings – but you, Procrastination, you provided me with this excuse when I didn’t quite want to go to work yet, and I have run away from bees ever since.
And today, I sit here on my couch recovering from foot surgery and I look at the long list of things I could do “when I had no foot” (yes, I seriously made this list!) and although I looked forward to having this down time and was excited to do all those things on my list, I can’t quite bring myself to do them. Because your voice is in my head, nudging me to keep putting those things off – “because what happens if you do them all today and have nothing to do tomorrow?”
But it’s become unhealthy, Procrastination. You’ve become so ingrained in my life that I can’t tell what I want to do from what I don’t want to do. I’ve become so used to you being by my side, convincing me to wait, put things off or do other things that I’m now afraid. Truth be told, you’ve made me a bit paranoid – I delay trying something new because I’m afraid that if I do it, the anticipation and excitement will be gone. You’ve led me into a life where I don’t take risks and where I sit waiting for things to happen to me, rather than making things happen myself. You’ve let me believe that “this” is enough – but when I look back on the last few years of my life, I can see all that wasted time and I’m angry.
And you’ve altered my perception of responsibility too, Procrastination. Somehow, as you pushed me to keep putting things off, it caused me to continually shirk responsibilities, to the point where now, if someone asks me to be responsible for something I’m offended. I’ve become so self-absorbed and protective of “me time” – but the ironic thing is, I’ve lost all concept of what “me time” really is. It’s not sitting on the couch and watching another “Friends” re-run; it’s not checking Facebook AGAIN; it’s not refreshing my Twitter every 3 minutes. It should be about learning to cook, or planting a flower box, or writing a blog post or spending time in my craft room, or any number of other things that are on my “someday” list.
So, that’s it. I need to end this relationship. You’ve become unhealthy for me, and I need to learn how to live without you. I’d say that I’m going to miss you, but to be honest, I don’t think I will. I’d say that I will treasure all our moments together, but I won’t really. I’m sorry it had to end this way – please don’t hate me. I wish you well, Procrastination, but I look forward to my future without you.