If It is the End of the Semester… Why Am I Not Freaking Out?

Because, my brain decided to wait until approximately 5:12 pm to do so.

But for a split moment, about 12 hours earlier, I was almost convinced I would escape it.  But it came, self fulfilling prophecy of sorts I guess.  Once I decided I was frustrated and pissed it was all over.

The only reason I decided not to break down and cry is because I figured crying would accomplish nothing.  Neither did kicking the laundry basket across the bedroom but it made me feel a little better.

I tried to keep it all together so well over the course of the semester but of course the last week I feel like I am falling apart.  And I have discovered the ultimate hatred for college professors who don’t have and never got their classes together so that the last week is even more of a clusterfuck than it already was.

My optimism has faded, I could suddenly care less about the approaching holidays as my mind has shifted into survival mode.  The cynic in me has reared her ugly head.  Thoughts of working for minimum wage for the rest of my life have entered my head.

At least I decided instead of waiting until the very last minute (although admittedly I was close) I decided to finish my research paper and submit just so I didn’t have to care about that anymore.  I had been putting it off because I seriously feel like I have some sort of ADD when it comes to writing papers.  Every textbook symptom of ADD shows up in me when it comes to writing papers.  But I closed the door to the bedroom and just forced myself to do it.  The reward was knowing that one less thing would be haunting my mind.


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