She knew it was wrong. Yet, she went ahead. Her mind was in turmoil. But she couldn’t stop. The deadline didn’t matter. Blank pages seemed irrelevant. All she could do is read. All that she couldn’t do was to put down the book. “I really should write a 1000 words every day,” she told herself. But the last words were written days ago. She knew she was being bad. “How can this be bad for me when I’m enjoying it so much?” She asked herself and promised to write tomorrow.