Words of wisdom on paper airplanes
Its 1:30 a.m. Sleep is not an option. This midterm essay will be the death of me. It is slowly nibbling at the thin, vulnerable edges of my soul until it is devouring the sensuously warm innards. Eventually there will be nothing left. But I'm still here, stuck, and unable to make a decision as to where to start. I hate midterms.
Me
Me