3.5-4.5 hours to sign my death warrant

I am up to my fucking THIGHS in homework. I thought that maybe I'd wake up earlier but noooo, I just had to be the most exhausted person for no good reason. I tried to get up earlier to do it and I felt like my arms were glued to the bed. My body, heavy, but also doing that little tingling thing to signal that you should be fully charged. But it's a lie. You're either running on empty or overfull, and straddling the line is impossible. Burnout sucks and I think I'm going through it. You know who should be burnt out? Old ladies who have health issues. That's when your body and mind should be giving up on you, not fucking 18. My life is like the quickest fraying knot you've ever seen. I know my spine isn't supposed to be like this. Fuck you, strongly worded letter to follow, signed, my body. I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being tired, but to be fair? I forgot to take my meds this morning because I didn't get up. So that one's on me. The only thing at this point that could get me to be even remotely productive is the Skyrim Ambience Youtube video I have playing in the background. But I'm still not doing my homework. I have an essay due tonight! I feel like that one emoji that's smiling but it's eyes are tiny pinpricks and it makes it look terrified. Terrified, but you're also laughing because this is the emotional equivalent of hitting your funny bone. Your brain doesn't know what signals to start firing so it tries all of them and you end up looking fine instead of horrified. Who the fuck made emojis. What was that all about. Every so often humans invent hieroglyphics and it's a shame this generation's ones look so stupid because I'm not the best at words. I'm this close to typing up all my shit in the wingdings font. Anyway. Executive dysfunction has set in and I'm in the academic trenches. I've already fucked up and my parents don't trust me to go to school and move out unless I can prove myself but this week just caught up to me. I was being so good too. You should've seen the way I folded my bed just to change the scenery. I like how I'm sleeping, divided from the rest of my room. It makes the space smaller, and it makes me feel larger. Like the right size for my body. I was made too small for my soul and everyday it's trying to escape like helium, we will never have as much of it as we do now. I'm only getting older, and I'm still so young. But back to my bed, it's still the old futon with a broken support beam, so there's a sinkhole in the center that sorta sucks you in. It really shouldn't be my fault for not getting up in the morning. I don't remember how many years it's been like this. I've almost forgotten that it's broken. I always draw the short stick with sleeping, maybe that's why I try to find so much comfort in it. When my sister and I shared a room, I got the shitty trundle even though I'm older and was taller at that point. Then the shitty futon. Over Thanksgiving we were staying at a hotel and they had two beds and a pullout. The pullouts are normally fine, but the fact that I've gotten the pullout every single time it's an option has gotta rub me wrong one of these days. But even though usually they're fine, not the most comfortable, but decent enough to get the job done, this one was outright horrendous. I've never understood why people say spring mattresses are the worst kind until I slept on this pullout. There were so many springs and they were all digging into my spine. My futon is leagues better. If anything, that experience made me really fond and protective of my shitty futon. I'm keeping it as long as I can. The springs in that mattress made me feel like I was playing that one Fnaf fan game where you have to get in and out of the suit and avoid the springs in the costume that are fucked and might accidentally come loose and impale you through the lung. That mattress was so bad that I think it might've been better to actually sleep on the ground. Sometimes I sleep on the ground in my room, as long as I've vacuumed. The ground may be cold, hard, and unforgiving, but only if you let it. The couch is worse sometimes. As long as you've got a blanket you're fine. It doesn't matter where I sleep right now, because I have 3.5-4.5 hours (give or take) to sign my death warrant. Mentally kicking myself is not enough. I need to hatecrime this bitch into action. Maybe intentionally not eating dinner until I finish my work is not the best option, because I know that if I finish my shit at all, I'll be too tired to do a goddamn thing other than crawl into bed. Maybe I'll never turn the lights out. I just need some motivation. Some reward for finishing my work. My brain's a dopamine junkie and I'm going cold turkey, on accident. Or on purpose? Whatever, I'm not the one trying to starve myself of endorphins. I need new ways to get endorphins. That's kinda a good idea. Maybe if I get myself endorphins real quick, I'll have enough happy chemicals to organize and compose myself long enough to finish my stuff. Good idea, horny brain. Post-nut clarity is real I think. Idk, I'm gonna try it. Maybe I'll only be up to my shins in work afterwards.