Dear College,

Oh College. Why must you taunt me so? You tease me with your weeks of freedom and carefreeness, and then, when my interest is peaked and I fall in deep, you spring like a pissed bee. And you sting me. Stinging with the pain and... well... pain of design class. And the sting hurts like a mo fo, and then, to add insult to injury, the stinger breaks off and I have to spend like half an hour with tweezers trying to get it out and my arm is swollen up like a freaking balloon... Alright, point is, College, you're killing me with this two timing crap. I know you're seeing other guys behind my back as I spend hours, nay, days working on 9 3 inches by 3 inches squares of repeating patterns for design class. I saw you with all those happy people getting free bibles on the quad today while I trudged to class and back to my dorm. And that's another thing, I'm tired of you leaving your heat all over my room. It's bad enough my "house" is one room, but for you to leave all that heat and humidity here, that's just mean. College, I could go on and on about all the wrong you done me, and I don't want to. This life is killing me. I know, I know, I've hurt you too. But I changed, College, why can't you? Please, College, I love you, and I need you to make an effort. Just try to change, for me, College, for me. I know you will. We can work it out.

With love,

Marty