Today I got to class, prepared for once (or so I thought). I read the 20-page chapter the night before, ready to contribute to the discussion. Then my professor started addressing the class. He discussed in great detail the paper due in two days. The longer he talked, the more pressure I felt in my head (despite the fact that I was wearing a headband, I knew it was from stress).
With a sinking heart, I realized my preparedness the night before were for naught. I deeply regretted the episode of Psych as I realized I didn't even have a topic for the thing. My world started getting more distorted as I remembered my other homework (reciteastorystartassignmentforbusinessmanagementstudyfortesttakingmitermreadpearlofgreatpricecatchuponhumanitiesreadingstartstudyguidesculturaleventwriteup) and obligations for the next two days.
"I am doomed," I thought and slumped hopelessly over my pull-out desk.
We started discussing Caravaggio's Doubting Thomas as I started doubting I could do this thing called school.
darn i had half hoped that this story would end in 'then i realized i was in the wrong classroom again' or something to that effect
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ReplyDeletePsych is SO WONDERFUL! My oldest sister and I have gotten WAY too addicted to that show.
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