Eeevil.

I've reached my limit, lovers.

Overload capacity has been breached.

It took one whole week and a half of nonstop social activity for me to reach my breaking point.

I'm not sure whether to be discouraged over my failure or proud of my ability to last for an entire week and a half before loosing sanity.

All it took was one last meal to put me over the edge.  Breakfast for dinner.  One simple serving of corned beef hash that tastes so completely opposite of what you're used to can, apparently, completely disintegrate all your defenses and leave you utterly wasted for resources.

As if that wasn't bad enough, they made two more fatal errors.  Bisquick pancake batter and powdered eggs.

I tell you, I almost got up and threw my plate across the room.  I could feel a tantrum rising up.  Dissatisfaction and rage began to sizzle, and then gurgle, and then bubble and boil inside of me and I was sick with passive-aggressive thoughts.

If only the eggs weren't powdered may I wouldn't want to DIE so much right now.

If I had maybe had a real homemade batch of pancakes I wouldn't be considering marching in there and SHOVING THIS NASTY CRAP IN YOUR MOUTH AND SEEING HOW YOU LIKE BEING FORCED TO EAT FAKE FOOD ALL DAY LONG.

Gee, I know it's not your fault, and you're just working with what you've been given and I shouldn't be this angry but I CAN'T HELP YELLING AT YOU IN MY BRAIN FOR ALLOWING THIS SORT OF EVIL TO PASS.

Okay.  Okay.  I know.  I'm an awful human being, and I do feel genuinely sorry for thinking those thoughts.  But at least that's all they were, thoughts.  I didn't voice them, right?  That's only partial sin, yeah???

Unfortunately I still have a lot to learn here, obviously.

But honestly, that was the most depressed I've been over a meal in a long time.  I want to cook my own food.  I miss my kitchen back home.

I miss my bedroom with it's privacy and space and neatness.

I miss my best friends who I don't have to explain myself to because they just know me so well already.

I miss my guitar.

I miss Netflix.

And the last thing I want to do is march my butt in the wind and the rain over to the classroom and sit listening to lectures on Marriage and Family for the next two hours.

Pity Party Officially Thrown.

Bedtime needs to happen right, and I mean right after class.

Xx,

Hannah