Dear God, It's Me, Dumbass

Dear God,

Please, please do something about this last class. I really am not enjoying crying about it every single f***ing night. If I have to cry every night for nine weeks straight, I'm pretty sure my eyeballs will fall out. And that's not going to benefit anyone.

How is it that I can get almost all the way through graduate school, with all A's mind you, and wind up feeling like a worthless idiot dumbass in the last class that's supposed to tie everything I've learned all together?

Is this some sort of twisted academic joke, God? Are you up there having a big belly laugh over my insanity? Is the crap you've piled on my plate not enough, you just have to add that last giant ladle of stress gravy that seeps over everything else? Because, really, I'd be happy with a simple bowl of Cheerios right now.

I'm not sure if you can make someone smart overnight, but I'd sure appreciate your giving it a shot. Tonight would be great. I have another assignment due Thursday night and if you don't at least throw me a bone I just might not make it.

Thanks in advance,
Amy
P.S. If you could see fit to clean the litterbox, too, that would be awesome. I just can't seem to get to everything these days.