I hate class. Fuck, I hate class.
I cannot wait until the end of the semester so I can get the fuck out of Composition II with whatever sub-par passing grade I can get.
I HATE writing papers. I especially hate writing papers on literature. Because one, it kills the joy of reading (wonder why books are to kids like garlic is to Dracula? Figure it out!) and two, I cannot for the life of me, write a bunch of verbose bullshit on subjects I have no interest in.
I just turned in possibly the worst papers I have ever written, and if he decides to give me a C on them, there is in fact a merciful God.
Not only that, I did craptastic on an algebra test that should have been easy. My stomach hurt and I blanked out on the portion with quadratic equations (why? they're not that bad! ask my Monster-less malfunctioning brain) . That's probably a test I will retake if only to regain some pride.
Countdown to the end of the semester: One month and nearly two weeks. C'mon, December 11th! Getting my wisdom teeth was more bearable than writing Comp II papers!
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