You do everything in your power to avoid leaving the library. Everything.
And when you come back to your dorm and your roommate asks if everything is okay, you’re all like…
You pressure your roommate into coming to Zaya’s with you for the third night in a row because, hey, what are roommates for if not to share in your suffering…right?
And you soon realize that all you have left on your Emory Card are a few cents-worth of Dooley Dollars.
After studying for what seems like days on end, that exam is finally here…
Everything bothers you, but nothing bothers you more than the kid two seats down who won’t stop clicking his pen.
Or, maybe it’s the student bragging about how easy the exam will be.
…or the kid asking other students questions to trip them up on purpose.
Regardless, you begin contemplating the benefits of slipping out of the room when your professor is not looking.
You think to yourself:
Anyway, you power through and leave feeling pretty good about yourself.
Then, you proceed to handle the rest of your exams with level-headedness and grace.
It’s Friday and you think to yourself, “Hey! I think I can do this!” But then it hits you:
Which leads to some of this…
A little bit of this…
A touch of this…
And a whole lot of this…
Happy finals, everyone!