This winter quarter I signed up for 30 units. Despite already having no friends, personal hygiene habits or gainful hobbies, the stress got so bad I went full circle and entered a state of transcendent peace. Then, before I knew it, I was escaping the confines of death and rebirth to end my suffering of life’s continuous cycle! I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, so I Googled, “What does it mean to feel myself become unborn,” and apparently I’ve attained Nirvana.

I’m practicing mind-fullness, meaning I’m literally filling my mind; there’s no more space left. No, I don’t feel real. In fact, the sensation most closely resembles one of those fair rides where you’re spun so fast you can’t feel gravity, but instead of gravity, it’s time and your inherent sense of self. 

But I have decided to chase that feeling. By replacing any kind of human pleasure — food, love, intimacy — with the dissociative ecstasy of this brain-stretching intellectual hell, I have severed my tethers to this realm and now find myself facing the perfect stillness that lies beyond human constructs such as “life” and “death.” 

I can tell that this is the right choice for me. If I keep this up, I can graduate after only six quarters and then go on to not need my degree in the painless oblivion that is my nonexistence. Plus, I’ve heard the timeless, spaceless void has great internship opportunities.

So I ask all you thought-have-ers, time-feelers and space-taker-up-ers to think this with your physical brains: Maybe all personal divisions are an illusion! And next quarter, take 30 units and lose your mind, body and soul. The view sure is nothing from here!

Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.

Contact Lana Tleimat at ltleimat ‘at’ stanford.edu.