Kill Me, Please

I'm begging you. End my life. Or do some of this work for me. Whatever it takes.
9-5 work is super-busy. No time for love. Also, no time to work on any of the massive freelance project I have. Which gets bigger every time I think I'm seeing the end of it. More questions, please, by Friday. A chart too, while you're at it. I very much want to die. But I got myself into the quagmire where I need the money to pay the bills, so I have to suck it up.
Why am I taking the time to write this, then? Because it has nothing to do with world history, Georgia or a project that has spiralled out of control. Thought I'd be out of it by the weekend. Now looks like it'll ruin America's birthday for me. Boo hiss.
Oh, and I'm also sick. My head is stuffy, my brain is slow and all I want to eat is Doritos. That is the true sign of a cold. Dorito love.
Okay, back to it. Thanks for listening. Expect some intelligent content next week.