The Bitch's Last Stand

I just wanted to play piano. That's all I wanted. I wake up at 6:30 everyday and trek off to an eight o'clock class. And I always get there on time. And I've only missed one class over the course of 3 semesters of school, and I all I want to fucking do is play piano. And I can't. Because the people that don't go to class and sit around the dorm all day smoking weed and watching family guy are playing Guitar Hero in the same room. And they'll be there all weekend, just eating chips and playing Guitar Hero and amplifying my own awareness of how shitty my life is right now.

And I lost my umbrella. Which is probably the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person living in Ithaca in November.

I hate the fact that I have been physically unable to cry for the past 3 weeks. The tears won't come out when I need them to. Yet the day they finally do come, my roommate has decided to skip her only class for the day in her ridiculously easy course load so that she can sit in front of her computer and watch anime. And hinder her roommate's ability to bawl into her pillow during the one hour of free time that she has for the day.

I hate that one of the few times that I'm actually genuinely upset over the course of the year, I get overshadowed by the petty, pissy, fucking cunt cunt bitch drama of some other girl in the eyes of the person who should be consoling me. Because aloof assholes who can't see things for what they really are even when they're 10 inches away from it, and it's metaphorically punching them in the face with hints and guestures and alludings.

I need to throw something.