The countdown begins.

And the panic attacks ensue. I had one a couple weeks ago at midnight. The thought process went something like this:

I’m a senior. Whoa.

I’m graduating in May.

Wait, how many months is that? (counts on fingers)

Nine months?

And my lease is up at the end of May.

And I probably won’t have a job. Or any prospects.

Oh. My. God. What am I doing with my life?

Oh. My. F—ing. God. What if I have to move back to Las Vegas? With my parents?

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