I can't tell if I'm exhausted or depressed or terrified.
I can tell you something though: I'm sick of the chronic pain and the anxiety. Sooner or later I'm going to turn into someone who screams at pedestrians and tries to sell homemade pamphlets at coffee shops for fifty cents, detailing how the elaborate neo-fascist subterranean lizard-man conspiracy is using my veins to transmit clandestine messages to Burger King.
This semester is almost done. I want nothing more than to see my friends and my family.
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