I don't want to write my paper and I don't want to study, and I wish it were over. I'm a horrible writer and I'm going to fail all my classes, and then my life will suck, not like it did before, but I'm sure it can get worse. No one will love me, I'll be kicked out on to the street and live in a cardboard box and freeze because Utah is cold. After losing several fingers and toes to frostbite I'll probably be admitted to a mental institution for being homeless and have a schizophrenic roommate, whom I will instantly start to emulate. Many years later they'll find out the catalyst for my pscychopathology and stop giving finals.
I have strange fantasies don't I? Whistler, you are so weird. Arrgh! Just write the stupid paper!