Oh hi, you, yes you! Buried into that 5 pound book you forgot to so much as glance at this semester. Sure, it sort of looked cute as a coffee table book for the last few months, no one in returns will even notice the sticky rings on the front of it from your weekly latte run, totally unnoticeable.
Between the carb loading, late night procrastinating, and the snapping at people who dare step in your cross-hairs, this week totally marks another semester in the books! Of course though on the reverse, this is your ultimate version of hell.
Your friends who somehow managed to take all of the easiest classes this semester get out of taking finals, “like I dahn’t know why, we just dahn’t have one”, and are heading home early while you’re left to rot with all the worms in the library.
Maybe, just maybe, you’ll see someone tucked into a small corner on the 5th floor you’ve yet to come across all semester on campus. Probs should have rethought that nasty thing you’re calling a top-knot on your head, and worn a longer shirt with those yoga pants to cover up last weekends late night hotdog run-in (not everyone loves mustard as much as you). Meh, it’s hopeless though to think about, besides, you know EVERYONE on campus, you would have seen this mystery meat long ago. You settle in on the 5th floor, take out your chicly covered Macbook (pro, duh) and start quietly sinking your manicured nails into a Facebook post. Maybe throw in a selfie or 3, get extra weird and toss in an artsy filtered pic of your books and computer creatively titled “#ugh” for pity points. After all the posting has been done, you look around, think for a small second how high up the 5th floor really is from the quad, and get back to your paper.
*2 minutes pass*
You’re exhausted. Exasperated. Centering your name and title of the paper has totes taken it out of you. How are you possibly supposed to write a paper about something you didn’t pay attention to for an entire 6 months? We get it, the most interesting thing about the class might of been the TA who had a real knack for wearing cowboy boots and screen printed shirts with trashy sayings like “make me a sandwich” and wondering, no really, how are you married? Couldn’t your teacher have asked you to write a paper on him? Simple! Where did he find those disgusting shirts anyway? Back to work. You bust open the sneaky bag of baked cheetos at the bottom of your backpack when all the sudden it comes over you. You’re not going to do this, you simply cannot write this paper. There is absolutely not a shot in hell you are typing more than you already have. Who can I pay to write this? What study file do I have? Forget it, I’ll throw myself a pity party right here. Call everyone in your phone book who might listen while you speak in circles. It’s finals week, why wouldn’t you?
What do you do to throw yourself a pity party during finals? Drown yourself in pop tarts? Re-decorate your dorm? We wanna know…because we probably did it.