There is no other explanation for the fact that I’ve lost all motivation to do anything school-related; I have come to a point of no return. Senioritis is the equivalent of Alzheimer’s disease for the college student. I wish I could say that was an exaggeration, but it’s not.

Last Monday night was when the worst of it really started to set in. I was well-rested and feeling just fine, but for the life of me I couldn’t pay attention. It wasn’t until I had discovered seven new ways to cut off the circulation in my left hand that I realized my attention span has dwindled to the equivalent of a 5-year-old caffeine pill addict with ADD, on crack.

The sad truth is that all methods of treatment for this condition have failed. Neither periodic desk headbutts, nor the self-inflicted pencil wounds I frequently employ in order to maintain consciousness, have been able to restore my enthusiasm for learning. They are like the bouncing of an inflatable beach ball from the gut of a large sweaty man; they have no effect, and afterwards the area is flooded with the unmistakable stench of body odor.

Furthermore, I have reached an epiphany, in which the auditory world of Charlie Brown has become my reality; in the classroom, the only sounds which meet my ears are low-pitched vocal Wahs that dull my senses and soothe me into a mind-numbing trance of subdued madness for the entire class period.

At one point, I vaguely remember having to go up to the front and pick up a paper she had graded, and I think she started talking to me about a professor that I had studied under a few years ago. She said something about him attending my senior presentation, and then asked me a question about him. Since I hadn’t really been paying attention and was surprised that she was talking to me in the first place, I just stared blankly at her for a moment. She must have noticed the swirling vortexes of boredom/insanity in my eyes, because she handed me my paper and made some smart, professor-like remark. So I walked off with my paper.

When class is dismissed, I walk out the door and become the normal, average guy that I usually am. Even though I still decide to watch Sponge Bob Square Pants instead of doing my homework sometimes, I can only hope that once I’m done with college this incessant mind plague will leave me and never come back. Until that day, I am doomed to live with the incurable condition known as Senioritis. Juniors beware, for your day comes soon.