Drowning.

I was looking for something that I did last year at school. First, I checked the computer at school. It wasn't there, but I did notice how disorganized everything is in my files. Great. Then I check on the computer at home. It wasn't there either, but there's a possibility that it got deleted during the numerous reloads that computer has been through. I even checked some old stuff of mine, a story that must have been from seventh grade. It was terrible. That was when I realized that there was only one place where this paper would be. It would be in The Bin.
The Bin is where I keep all of the assignments I have done in hi!school (with the exception of my euro binder, because it has been deemed useful on a day to day basis. It's on my bookshelf.) I have this idea that I'm going to pull it out at my graduation party so that people can be in awe of it. I'm not sure why they would be in awe of it, but I know they would be. So I go in my closet, find the bin and open it. What's on top? The certificate from the time Justin and I got married. I failed that assignment. Digging a little deeper, I find my notebook from ninth grade English, a notebook from what must have been geometry, and some more failed assignments, these ones from research writing. Finally, I find it. My inch thick English folder. I open it up and see, to my surprise, more failed assignments. Pulling some papers out, I glance through them. Three copies of pieces of my research paper, the one that I did the bare minimum on. I pull out the paper I need, right behind that. Quickly, I put the folder back in the bin, put the cover on, and put it back where it belongs. Have to keep those memories trapped, or else who knows what will happen.
But they won't stay trapped in there, we all know that. They're going to seep out of the bin, and they're going to come looking for me. They'll come at night, when I'm rolling over and over again, trying to get some sleep. They'll come at school, when I least expect it. They'll come when I'm going for a walk, at random. I can't stop them now.
And what are they going to say? They'll tell me that I should have tried harder, that I shouldn't slack off like I always do. They'll tell me that I'm never going to be enough, never going to live up to their expectations, never going to get what I want. They'll tell me that I'm the perpetual underachiever. They'll tell me that I am impossible to change.
And I am impossible to change. They try to change me, they try to fix me again and again but it never works, and each time I get more stubborn, more set in my ways. Maybe it's just the way it's meant to be, maybe I'm just supposed to be the one who had so much potentional and failed so miserably. If that's true, at least I'll be sucessful at something, which is the status we're at now.