Dear Girls who Live on my Floor,
Shut up. I wish I could wake up just one morning when you weren’t shrieking in the hallway outside my door. You don’t know how to sing; not wicked, rent, avenue q, pop songs, country songs, rap songs, or anything else. So stop trying to sing, right outside my door.
Quiet time means shut up. Which means talk on your cell phone in your very own room, that you probably killed someone to get to have your privacy. That’s why we live in this dorm. Because we were antisocial and wanted privacy. Not so that we could listen to you shriek about your wild nights out spent studying psych or bio at 6 in the morning.
And stop knocking on my door and walking in. it takes me one second to get out of my chair and answer it, so be patient.
