Dear Roommate,
Please stop talking to me. I’m in a very bad mood and I really don’t care about how you are going to meet up with your ex-boyfriend’s mother and how it’s nice but oh so weird at the same time.
Nor do I care about how dark your hair came out after you dyed it.
Or how your hand is incredibly itchy.
I’m too busy thinking of reasons to not kill myself. So sorry if I block you out, but I really do have better things to worry about.
