And Now, a Post of a Different Color

No, I'm not dead, unless by "dead," you mean "buried under mountains of school work the likes of which I've never encountered before." Whine whine whine.

I am actually going crazy, though (sorry to all real crazy people).

Now each of my classes has its own voice inside my head.

Neural Processes: You didn't study me enough this week. Also, you totally don't produce enough seratonin. Idiot.

Anatomy and Physiology: I gross you out hardcore.

Language Acquisition and Development: If you think you're going to pass me after that test, you've got another thing coming. Don't forget to read like 80 chapters in the textbook by monday.

Intro to Clinic: I am going to lull you into a false sense of security and then BAM: you have to write a diagnostic report! NOW! I don't care if you've never done it before! If you don't do it right, the world will end, of this you can be sure!

Research Methods: Hey, keep up the good work, friend!

I like that last guy; he's alright.

There isn't much room left for my other voices:

Mr. You-Like-Hummus-Much-More-Than-You-Realize-Voice
Crippling Insecurities Articulator
Who-Do-You-Think-Will-Be-Your-Next-Boyfriend-And-When-Will-He-Propose-Voice
Stephen King's Dreamcatcher
My Dad
Body Image Inner Monologue
Financial Inner Monologue
Hamlet's Monologue
Conan O'Brien Monologue
Blog's Inner Monoblog
Continuous Loop of Rod Stewart's "Some Guys Have All the Luck"

I'm really having trouble concentrating with all this noise.