I used to love writing. And I like to think I’m not terrible at it. I used to write for fun all the time in high school. I used to be able to crank out a two page essay in an hour no problem.

This semester, I was taking five reading and writing heavy classes, including my senior thesis class. All my energy went into my thesis class because I knew it was the most important. I was tired all the time, but I figured if I scheduled myself properly it would all be fine. As long as I stuck to my schedule everything would be fine.

But then a familiar friend came along. Let's call her A. A came up to me and she asked how I'm doing, how my day has been, what have I been up to lately. I told her about all the work I have and how I had every second of the rest of my week planned out. She told me to chill out, go on tumblr for a little bit, watch the new season of House of Cards.

"You're so smart," she told me, "you'll get that essay done". But after watching a couple episodes together, and getting dinner, it was late.

"I should probably start my essay," I told her.

“No,” she said. She whispered in my ear that even though I know what I’m talking about, I won’t be able to put it into coherent sentences. It’ll be a sucky essay. It won’t be long enough. She made me terrified to even start writing.

So I watched another episode of House of Cards. It’s a great show, I love it. Really well written. I wondered if I could write something that good. Which reminded me of my impending essay. The due date like the timer on a bomb waiting to explode.

I flounced onto my bed.

“Just don’t write the essay,” A said, "You're obviously too tired."

“But I can’t! It’s like half my grade.”

“So?”

“So then I’ll fail the class. I might as well drop out, move home, and sleep all day.”

“Not a bad idea,” A said in a joking tone, "Besides, it's not like you can write that essay anyway. Just sit here and think about it."

I started to agree with her. I can’t write this essay. I have no words. I could talk about my topic for ages. I know what I want to say. I have my opinion. But how do I make that into fifteen hundred intelligent words? I can’t do it. My brain hurts. How do you even form sentences anymore? Maybe I will just cry and hope it goes away.

A has been in my life for awhile now. But she really isn’t my friend. Anxiety is not my friend.