Cramming

Sitting in the agency surrounded by coffee cups and practice exams, actually studying for Thursday’s mid-term instead of pretending this will happen magically. The big push toward master status, except I’m pretty sure I’ve already forgotten half of it.

This is the kind of studying where nothing sticks anymore. You’re just repeating shit and hoping your brain remembers it when it matters. There’s a specific flavor of panic in deadline studying—the certainty you’ve missed something crucial, the superstition that one more review will somehow help, the way coffee tastes like fear by the third cup.

I’ll probably run into someone from class on Thursday equally convinced they’re fucked. We’re all cramming in different spaces living the same nightmare. At least I know I’m not the only one who waited until now.