Gibbers and squeaks
I hate finals. Violently. I generally do quite well in them, but I tend to come perilously close to giving myself an ulcer over each and every english class. It makes me wonder if perhaps I should reconsider my goal of a career in academia. I'm almost certain I can actually feel the neuroses popping up like evil toadstools in my psyche. Ironically, I maybe more stressed now, over a single class, than I was at the end of last semester, when had a great deal more work. I suspect this is partly to do with the fact that I don't know anyone in this class, and thus have no one to study or gripe with, and partially due to the fact that there is no longer anyone who I can wake up at 2 in the morning to frantically ask if they'd still love me should I fail all of my classes. I think I'm going to wander off and die now.