Well... to the extent which UNLV deemed fit.
We all know UNLV loves to fuck around.
Anyway, the more and more I think about it, the more I just want to fucking flee the city... the country... and skip the graduation (so unlikely to happen. I'm sure Mom would chain me to the bed if she had to, just so she can live vicariously through me and imagine herself being the one picking up the fake diploma on December 21st. I'm so jaded to that shit thanks to high school... I could really give two shits if I go on stage to shake people's hand while dressed in a very unflattering black bag they so humorously like to call a "gown").
Maybe... I'll just buy a tassel as a keepsake:
My four and a half miserable years at UNLV as a biology major.
(I lie... my first year as a bio major, while stressful to a point [you know, thanks to professors constantly reminding you how difficult the subject is and how unlikely it is for you to graduate... and how things come up, yada yada yada], was actually pretty fucking awesome.
Sophomore year would have been equally awesome had it not been for my vomiting issues being magnified thanks to good ol' organic chemistry pre-exam anxiety [vomiting once or twice before an exam had always been normal throughout high school... but 20+ times in one day? Some days I wonder why I refused to go to a doctor and get that checked. That's probably one of the only stereotypes I seem to (seriously) perpetuate for my Latinos])
With all my heart, I just want it all to be over.
Dear God, make me a bird... so I can fly far... far, far away from here...
Damn, Forrest Gump has always been so relevant in my life (and I get Taking Back Sunday's "Twenty-twenty surgery" stuck in my head immediately after. Particularly this part: You're so sensitive, I am, I am a machine [repeat, repeat, repeat]. What my immersion into English music has done to me... ).
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