Procrastinating. On LIFE

I am procrastinating on life. I mean this in a very not good way. I am putting off my college essays. And yes, this equals not doing my homework and telling my parents I have caught the black plague. I think after you use that excuse for the third time, they expect you to be dead. Or something. Still I could blame the overwhelming depression that rules my life. But then, that wouldn't be very accurate would it now? I could blame too much joy and tell my parents I am just waaayyy tooo happy to do anything productive on a three-day weekend. However they might just assume I'm on drugs and send me to a hospital. Or stuff me in a closet. I haven't deciphered which as of yet. I am hoping that perhaps I am not actually doing this on purpose and this isn't just writers block. Severe writers block. Because at the moment I am writing. Sure this is pretty shitty writing but it's still words and that is good enough for me to believe I do not have writer's anything.  Except maybe the occasional hand-cramp. Still. Life has not handed me any lemons recently. I am taking this as my leave to steal some from an orange tree and sell it as lemonade to shock people when it tastes like orange juice but it's really yellow. Like me.