The feeling you get when you have a college acceptance letter in one hand, a Cinnabon in the other hand, and you jack it with both hands and skeet all over your bookbag and homework.
Of course, you don't have the motivation to clean off your stuff anytime between 3 PM and 7 AM the next day.
The diary of an infected senior:
Dear diary. I have finally come to terms with my life-threatening case of senioritis. And while my parents and teachers tell me I should "get back on the horse" and study hard, I can only spit out the battle cry of my generation:
SENIORITIS: We'd find a cure, but we just don't fuckin care.
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