Last night, I had a glass of raspberry cooler and was dead for the next thirteen hours. Either my alcohol tolerance has severely (and I mean severely) diminished or I just really, really needed some sleep. Either way, the cooler was a catalyst.

I am so hungry, but will not for the life of me bring myself to eat anything in the kitchen, as I'm going through one of those annoying, bitchy phases where I feel oppressed by my current familial situation. This oppression then translates into rage (versus grief, which is what Fatty tends to feel) and/or angst, which makes me feel as though my freedom of existence is threatened, which then (of course) brings me to spitefully refuse to eat food made by my mother.

And breaking curfew.

Which means I party all night long. (Enter omniscient truth, which regretfully contradicts my previous statement by concluding that Sophia does not ever party all night long and actually just pities her lonely self to the wee hours of the morning. On the rare occasion, she studies.)

And I become really hungry, like my stomach is going to eat itself, or is already in the process of self-consumption.

NO PAIN, NO GAIN!

Though truthfully, no one really gains, and I just starve.

Labels: college 1, fatty, piffed off