Finals week in college is a magical time of the season. The time when sleep schedules are irrelevant and showering becomes a conditional daily occurrence. The time when being in a terrible mood is permissible and bloodshot eyes are the norm. It’s a period where you can walk around at 4 in the morning and expect to find thousands of other mostly sober strangers following suit. It’s a semester’s worth of pressure rolled into less than 100 hours and it honestly makes me feel alive. I’ve learned many things about myself over my finals weeks and seen the limits of my mental stamina. I’ve realized just how much sleep I need to function and how little food I really need to survive. I’ve learned how to focus my complete attention on something yet have no idea what I’m doing at the same time. I’ve learned to listen to music while zoning it out entirely.The balance of oxymorons in this small frame of time is summed up by what a friend of mine told me once; finals week is about dying just enough to survive. Though this year’s finals week is coming to a close I will miss it in some ways. Only when I’m almost dead have a felt this alive.

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