I am giving up. I am packing my things. I am flying home. But not actually, because I still have three finals left to take. But mentally, I am on that plane home.
After a whole semester of material and these past few weeks of flashcards, study guides, and powerpoint slides, I’ve decided that I am so done. In fact, I am fleeing this institution as we speak. It’s like I can feel the thrill of my own rebellion in the crisp winter air. Well not really, because I am currently in Bobst studying intently, like the good student that I am, but just know that I am on my way out the door literally any second now.
I might not even show up to my exams. That’s how much I am just so passed this whole finals thing, and ready to move on with my life. When my classmates are taking the exam, they’ll wonder, “Where’s Stacey?” They will look around for me, concerned, my usual chair empty, and they’ll say, “Wow. Stacey just skipped finals. She is so brave. I wish I could be more like her.”
I mean, technically, they won’t say that, because that chair won’t be empty, because I’ll be sitting in it, taking the exam, prepared with two freshly sharpened pencils. But just know that on the inside I am so over it.
Anyway, I’m taking off. I booked an early flight. I’m heading home, because I couldn’t care less about finals. Goodbye everyone. Enjoy your tests. Enjoy being miserable. I’ll be at home, enjoying life. Well not actually, because I have to stay here and take my finals. But right after I am definitely out of here.