frantically written about nothing in particular

It's 10:39 and I'm making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I'm sandwiched between finals and trying not to lose my head.

My birthday is on Saturday, and I've been trying to ignore it.

I wrote something earlier that I intended to share, but it's funny how the way you intend to write words is sometimes not the way in which the words want to be written. It turned into the kind of thing I can't share with anyone.

That's all. I need to go to bed.

Good night. Are you taking tests, too? Good luck, friend.

Love.