My room is trashed. I'm currently surrounded by discarded Coke cans and beer bottles, plus an old pizza and my clothes, which have managed to explode out of my room into the hallway. There are various snack foods ingrained into the carpet. I haven't changed my clothes in two days. I spent the last of my money buying a cheap cheeseburger and some generic form of Dayquil. I've been sick all week and ensconced in newspaper, so my schedule has been sleep, class, newspaper; repeat. I stared at InDesign for over eight hours yesterday. I thought I was going crazy, plus I was swearing revenge on vigilante freshmen journalists who don't fucking understand what being 'unbiased' means. They also don't understand the difference between 'conspiracy theories 'and 'facts.' I know, it's a fine line. I skipped class today, again (off to a real great start!) and am contemplating if I should reply to this email the lead singer of Orange sent me, defending the similarities between "Suburban Home" by the Descendents and his own song "Republicans." I care way too much about people liking me (whether it seems that way or not). I'm going to Walgreens to go buy some new food with money I don't have. If I can get through Saturday night and only spend the last five dollars in cash I have, oh boy, I will be so fucking proud.
I can't decide if this is perfect or really lame.
I do wish my apartment didn't smell like ashen popcorn though. Ugh, roommates.
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