Dear Finals Week,
We've known each other a while now, yes? I realize this, and yet you still never cease to amaze. And by amaze, I mean make me want to jump off a series of cliffs into jagged rocks in a shallow shark infest cesspool. I literally hate you.
I know, I know, I'm irrational. I'm acting on impulse, in the heat of the moment, right in the middle of all you give me.
But while seriously, again. I hate you. I hate you with every little atom in my body. I hate you to the core of the earth and back ninety six trillion times. I hate you like a whole city made of junior mints and mushrooms. I hate you more than an eternity of hearing Quagmire saying "Giggety Giggety" at a very loud volume. I hate you the way I hate Gruntilda, the witch, and her cackle who appears when you try to end Banjo Tooie. I pure, straight hate you. And unlike Mr. Mantooth to Ron Burgandy, I do NOT respect you.
I kind of actually have to respect you, or I won't pass any classes. But literally, I feel like you will be the death of me. I rejoice and long for the day I will never ever ever EVER EVER EVER have to experience you again. I will write you off to the next pour soul who must endure you and I will fight until you are abolished from this planet or at least Cal Baptist.
No, no. Our journey isn't over, finals week. It is far from over. I will conquer you and make you wish you had never been set to test this student at her wit's end. You have not seen the last of me. Not until I have seen the last of you.
After tomorrow, it is goodbye for now. Better rest up before the end of next semester. Have a nice Christmas break.
Sincerely,
Student # 292098
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