Six weeks of my UnderGraduate life is left.
Six years working toward this degree.
I am pooped. The weather is incredible this week in SF. I don't want to work. I don't want to study. I don't want to think. I just want to lay on the grass, in the sun. I just want to sleep.
This Senioritis is killing me slowly. It's a wonder that anyone finishes. I hope I finish well. I hope my Professor's acknowledge that this is the end. And that I am tired. I hope I want to finish, as much as I think I do.
I am so happy. The happiest I have been in a long time. I have a best friend who I get to lounge with, talk with, walk with, eat with, dream with.
Funny... how life just gets around. And how we get around with it. What does that even mean? Who knows.
