Givens.

There are going to be some givens.

I am going to get my work done, but I am going to procrastinate until the very last possible second, complaining and dragging my feet the entire way.

I am going to change my mind. Especially when it comes to the opinions I espouse most confidently, most vehemently. I am going to ramble on about how I hate everything to do with poetry in a vaguely holier-than-thou attitude, and shortly thereafter find myself waxing poetic about my newfound love for T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” and for the title character.

I am going to refuse to let it bother me, and insist on enjoying the experience for what it was. Except for when it all comes crashing down on me, and I inexplicably wake up sad 5 days later, disappointed that not only did I not get what I wanted, but for all my mental preparation I was not at all prepared. Because I am going to do that too.

I am going to be confused. Confused when I find myself looking at the exact same situation as someone else, yet unable {or unwilling} to see it the same way they do. Confused when people act in a way different than I would, and yet cannot adequately explain their actions to me.

I am going to “Have the strength the force the moment to its crisis” one second, and know “there will be time… Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea” the next.

I am going to pray. A lot. I am going to pray while driving to school, pleading that I will somehow be able to make it through the week, even though the predicament I find myself in is 100 percent my fault. I am going to pray before tests I have not studied for, during shifts that I am too emotionally drained to finish, and before I fall asleep each night, when I am too exhausted to give the prayer the attention it requires.

I am, from time to time, going to fall apart a little bit. I am going to allow myself to wallow in self pity while simultaneously viewing the glass as half empty. I am probably going to cry, and heaven knows I am going to be stubborn. Stubborn enough to let myself collapse when I need to, and stubborn enough to pull myself back together when said collapsing ceases to be effective.

I am going to be selfish. I am going to write about myself instead of writing my English paper, because as much as I love T.S. Eliot, I love myself just a little but more.

I am going to be predictable. Chances are these things only surprise you if you don’t know me very well. I am going to be easy to read. I am going to show my emotions and my eyes are going to give me away.

every.single.time.