Dear School,

You and I need to talk.

I see the concern on your face. “Is she dumping me?”

Let me assuage your fears. This isn’t permanent. I think we just need to take a little break from one another. We were a good fit for awhile–you’re a taskmaster. I’m goal-oriented. It seemed a match made in heaven.

But this morning I somehow managed to bomb an open-book quiz on childhood behavior disorders. And as I stared at my score, all I could think was Good. One more thing off of my to-do list.

And it was then that I realized, school, that something about us isn’t working for me right now. Would it make you feel better if I assure you that it isn’t you, it’s me? I’ve given you far too much control of this relationship. We’ve spent way too much time together. I’m burned out of this relationship, and I dread the sight of your face.

I’m willing to take full responsibility for letting you walk all over me. But if this relationship is going to work, the time has come to start playing this game by my rules:

I get to work out at least 5 times a week.

I get to cook healthful food at least twice a week.

I get to clean my room, my car, my bathroom, etc. at least once a week.

Remember your best friend, Stress? I loathe his face; in fact, I think I’m allergic, given how sick I get every time he shows up. Either he goes, or I do.

Oh, and Guilt, yo’ mama, has to go as well. That brazen hussy will not be my in-law.

I get to spend at least 6 hours every night with Sleep. Eight would be better.

I get to spend one night a week hanging out with my friends. You aren’t allowed to come.

Don’t worry, School. You know that I’m somewhat addicted to you, and even after we negotiate a more permanent break-up in a few years, I’ll keep coming back to you. But I’m starting to resent you, baby. And I think the best thing for us to do is to spend enough time apart that we can actually enjoy our time together.

That said, it’s 9 AM on a Saturday, and I’ve already spent far too much time with you, so I’m going to go spend some time with Gym or Nap. Maybe I’ll see you Monday. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.




4 thoughts on “Dear School,

  1. Dear Comps,
    Sometimes you make me think I’m absolutely crazy. Is having a “Dr.” in front of my name really so important that I am willing to sacrifice about six months to reading papers all day long? Papers that frequently have the same literature review in front of “significant” data that is possibly the result of data trimming and fishing? Is it worth going to Bed Bath and Beyond early on a Saturday (multiple Saturday’s in a row) so that I can focus without internet or T.V. distracting me, to read said papers? I think not Comps, I think not. I’m not sure who thought you up Comps, but they were evil. Pure evil.

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