Finals week is the worst week of each semester. Between the exams, term papers, group presentations, projects, theses, quizzes, reflections and the new show on Netflix used to procrastinate on all of the important things needing to be done, it is impossible to get any sleep. It is almost impossible to breathe. Finals week, I suppose you could say, is a real drag. Because nothing makes me happier than drag queens, and nothing provides a better distraction than the shade of it all, I present to you: finals week, as told by drag queens.
When it is 3 a.m. and you remember you have a final at 8 a.m.
You definitely have not started studying yet. Time to find the textbook somewhere in your room, probably beneath a pile of dirty clothes and microwaveable food.
When you are five minutes into taking your first final.
One down, 7,000 more to go.
When you put down 'C' for all the answers.
No one actually thinks that trick works, but it seems safer than choosing all 'A's. You just feel like you can trust 'C'.
When the person next to you turns in their exam before you finish the first page.
Do those people have some sort of speed-reading superpower? If so, where can you get it?
When you get an answer that is not one of the choices.
You redid the problem three times and still got 15, but the closest option is 1,457. You just go with that.
When you finally have that mental breakdown...
It was only a matter of time. You have not slept in days. You have not snacked in hours. You have not showered in weeks. Something is seriously wrong.
When your professor says, "So, how was the exam? Not too bad, right?"
No, it was not too bad. It was ABSOLUTELY AWFUL. Did we even cover any of that in class?
When you give a group presentation.
You do not remember what any of your partners' names are, but you can tell the professor every little irritating thing they said and did throughout the course of the semester in great detail.
When your mom calls and asks how finals are going.
How do you think finals are going, mother??
When you receive the care package she sent.
Nothing says, "I love you and I hope you survive finals" like a box filled with junk food and coloring books. She even included the really obscure candy you like, even though it is only available in Canada.
When you walk out of a final you slayed.
You might even have earned a 'B'. Imagine that!
When by the end of the week, your brain has melted.
You feel like you will never be able to form a coherent sentence again, but at least now you have the time to shower.
When you turn in your final final.
Nothing is nearly as freeing and gratifying as finishing finals week. Not even being the supermodel drag queen of the world.