Should I throw away this piece of paper?

As you read, you’ll know that I’m obviously in a better mood now, hence also the witty title.

Something absurd happened during my second block class. We were given an essay prompt to which I had not a single clue to respond (response to a short story about its social message). I just sat there in awe at how, for the first time in awhile, I could not even forge something out of thin air. For maybe 20 minutes, I just sat there dumbfounded.

The details are hazy from here on, particularly those of the paper I’m about to mention. I began actually prewriting a whole other essay, one trying to explain my performance in the literary classroom in general, what were the grounds for forcing general-topic education on students past a particular point, etc. etc. Then I used some of this as well as whatever other relevant information was simultaneously developing in my head to prewrite an apology to write to the teacher, which I didn’t commit to writing during the block. It had to do with me believing that my honesty in claiming my inability to write a solid paper was worth something, and that the actual paper, had I written an unsupported and aimless one, would have been worth nothing. Which was absolute bullshit, I agree, and it’s a good thing I didn’t actually start writing it.

After that, I am fairly lost. That page got about ¼ full, but in tiny, chickenscratch wording, so it was really a significant amount. I can’t remember what kind of detail I went into. It was significant and philosophical. It was potent, and I felt proud of what I had written. That paper remains in my binder.

The rest of the school day, I quickly fell apart. At lunch (immediately after second block, and there are four blocks in a day), I was solemn as I usually am, but my mind was very busy. As what normally happens when I let my mind wander, I kept tripping over myself figuratively and just kinda sat down, occasionally getting the bright spot of innovation. Something must have happened then, because from the minute I walked into Third, I spiraled downward. This block, I was very wrapped into myself and didn’t want to focus on the lesson at all. I’m hardly consciously thinking about whatever it was from earlier. In fourth, I cannot do my work as the teacher’s assistant and break down in tears, quietly.

Once I started to recover, I looked online for “Random Depression,” as I had become so detached from my original thought in the day that I could not remember what, specifically, I was trying to figure out. Soon, I finally re-became conscious of the subject of why I was upset, that being over something along the meaning of life, so I tried “Depression over meaning of life.” Then I found it: existential depression. It is in accordance with what I was writing and thinking about, though, again, I can’t remember for the life of me what specifically it was that I was thinking.

Here’s what I don’t like about this. Months ago, I had rejected religion and began to formulate what would take me until this day to discover was actually excessively similar to existentialism. I have already very solidly believed that we give ourselves purpose, (At this point I just gave up on writing about the similarities on the basis that I don’t yet have a textbook understanding of the subject matter. If you think I am picking up on a life philosophy that is different, please let me know.)

So now I’m wondering what is written on that paper from second block today. What is it that could have set off such an emotional uproar for me? Most weirdly of all, I have sincerely forgotten what that writing was about. This presents me with an opportunity which I need help in deciding to take. Do I re-read the paper? OR, Do I just run it through the shredder?

I am leaning towards seeing it again, possibly plenty for the sake of curiosity, but also because it might be worth the risk for the sake of pursuing what I had so suddenly set out to accomplish. But, if I can pursue my own purpose, what is stopping me, then, from just permanently removing this from my memory? (Which is a very interesting scenario to have manifested, and the thought actually makes me smile and laugh a little). What do you think I should do?

I also think that there are a lot of side-questions generated from this writing, ranging from “Am I an existentialist?” to “What should I (or should I even) write to my teacher?” to “Should I talk to anyone about this?” Anything you think I should know, please feel free to add. I am totally ready for counterpoints as well, something that has been hard for me in the past.