Final year of law school. It's been hell getting here. It'll be another hell from here to passing the bar. Job market's shit. Everything I've touched this semester's turned to ash. I was complimented on my writing style for the first time since starting law school by my upper-level writing requirement professor. He actually enjoyed reading my rough draft, the first piece of non-fully-legal writing that I've done here (my attempts to master legal writing leave me with short, choppy sentences and an incoherent rambling instead of a nice flow). Just another sign that, really, I ought not to be here. But, here I still am, in this Godforsaken little town, suffering through a final year, and I'll be damned if I don't see it to the end and finally get the diploma that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into earning.
Dammit, I still want to drop everything and escape. Wake up from this fucking nightmare, but, no matter how hard I pinch myself, this is the reality that I have to face. Just over six months from now, it'll all be said and done. I will have taken the bar. Then we can see if these past 3.5 years were utterly wasted or worth the trouble. The really tragic thing is that if I could go back and do it all over again, I don't think I would have changed what I did. Everything would just replay itself as if I hadn't been given a second chance. How's that for sick and twisted?
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