oh, and did i mention fml?

The shit has finally hit the fan with my POS roommate. On Monday he had a serious operation performed on his knee, which has rendered him practically immobile. Apparently he has decided to make the living room his rehab camp; he's planted himself into the recliner – he's there every day and every night (yes, he sleeps there too). Oh, and dude hasn't fucking showered since the surgery.

Now I'm living like a prisoner: I'm confined to my room without the luxury of television (I watch very little TV, but that isn't the point) – wait, even prisoners get televisions in their cells – FUCK! Anyway, all of this is pushing me to the brink of hysterics. Seriously. I'm losing sleep. My hatred for him rattles my eyes and boils my blood as I lay in bed. I can't focus on my school work. I'm so disgusted. So angry.

So I wrote this letter. I'll give it to him tomorrow when I leave for Panda Bear's place.

FML.