In the morning I'm turning in my final paper for my stupid cataloging class. I walk away from this class with a little less of my humanity. This nearly obsolete class has taught me to hate on an entirely new level. A deep seeded hatred without yield, like no other hate I've ever felt. If I don't pass this class and I'm told I can repeat it I might simply walk away from this masters program. Because to repeat such a disorganized travesty like this class has been is to once again smell the fresh clean air and have my lungs fill with life.

I have never felt such depression in my life. This class had me contemplating an exit, a final exit, where to not exist would be to forget this stupid class ever happened. If I don't pass this class I'll have to find an alternative. Because to repeat this class would mean falling into a deep depression forever.