The Pot Luck Problem

Write a letter to the personality trait you like least, convincing it to shape up or ship out. Be as threatening, theatrical, or thoroughly charming as is necessary to get the job done.

Source: Shape Up or Ship Out


I should just drop with the niceties and be straightforward with my intentions. Reweighing my nonperformance in the last two months of this winter break, I am now clasping my hands together and begging on my knees in fury to genuinely plead you to stop whatever it is you do as it ruins my productivity and proper functionality as a human being.

I tried fighting the urge as much as I tried to embrace it and figure out ways to keep up with my deadlines. Either that you have a hardly deniable allure, or I simply don’t want to do things I am conditioned to which explains why I always cross paths with you. This time, I am afraid you have gone out of hand, and I found little to no reason of why I should give you even the tiniest leeway to take over the wheel of my daily life on the first place. Yet here you are, still standing strong… no, growing stronger each day I brushed you off by thinking, “I’ll finish it eventually, no worries. I’m simply just a night owl, and the rush fuels the creativity. Besides, I have never failed or missed out on anything before, so it should be fine”. No. I will stop romanticizing with the idea of the need to have you to get my brain working properly. I have to, and I am starting right now.

You, pesky fiend, have been the most evil of them all. I have never once raised my hand in anger towards anxiety, low self-esteem and clumsiness, which are never my best traits. In all honesty, I will get annoyed with them once in a while, but you! You alone, Sir, are responsible of making me the most dysfunctional I have ever been in my life. You have lost me my regular sleeping habits and my longer fun-reading sessions. You have deprived me from any capability to organize a routine or follow a schedule. You have destroyed anything that is left of my derelict academic interest and my only frail hope to secure an employment. You are one second to a life of full-blown self-condemnation and disgust unless I die from the devastation I have endured from tolerating you thus far.

If it really is too late for me to back down from such nothingness in my near future for condoning you, just this once, please, let me start my thesis, finish it and graduate this August. At least by now I have learnt my lesson not to even think of continuing my education to a doctoral level in this field, I can finally boldly claim as something I dislike doing to the point where I find it unbearable to pursue. Yet my family and, in a significantly equal importance, myself depends on me at least for the next 7 years, so please leave out of my system, and let me embrace my dissatisfying career and indifferent days up until I again muster up the courage, capital and reason to call it quits.

Again, I call for your attention that I, without a doubt, seek to clear you out of my life since I no longer find your service to cast out temporary entertainment and illusory creativity necessary. I have written a similar plea to Resistant Nonjudgementality for she is as responsible as you are for bringing me to this irreversible stage of regret even if I have plainly told myself not to be involved in any academic writing once I finished my undergraduate programme. This is my last attempt for the both of you to see reason in why I need you away from my life as much as I expect her to be more apt in defining affinity and aversion.

Let’s all try to be sensible, if empathetic is out of the question, in this critical moment of one’s late transition from studenthood to reality.

My ramshackle scraps of rationality


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