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I HATE MY ROOMMATE!! She is so fucking religious to the point where it is blaringly obnoxious beyond compare and I would be just fine with it, just peachy fucking keen, if only she wasn't so damn judgmental and high mighty about it!! I want to accept her, I want to accept and love all people, but since she knows that I am a Pagan and that my parents were not married when I was conceived, she finds herself in a position where she can touch all of my things and put them in whatever state she pleases (even though I always make sure that they are never in the way), tell me when and how much television or electricity I can use (I love the environment, but HELLO, I need light to write), and tell my friends how they should act and speak upon meeting. Not to mention she cooks the most disgusting, nasty smelling ass of food, usually in a damn crock pot, which seeps of horribleness and makes the entire dorm room stink to high heaven (no pun intended) for days on end. She uses all of my cleaning supplies and orders me to get more, arranges the furniture without my permission to where I cannot even work at my desk because it faces a huge sliding glass window (we are on the 25th floor and the sun shines directly on the fucking apartment, and since she refuses to let the shades stay closed and even goes as far as to open them while I'm at my desk, I can't ever fucking concentrate), and even unplugs my laptop when it is charging while I'm not home, so that when I do get back, I can't work because my mac is dead. She is always glaring at me (cause, you know, my very presence is a sin in the sign of the Seventh Day Adventist Lord) and I can't bring any of my friends over because they are afraid of her, and in all reality, THEY SHOULD BE!!!! It's not just me, I know this now, because everyone who meets her agrees with me and doesn't know how the fuck I live with this shit! All of the appliances are mine, and I don't mind if she uses them at all, and she does so whenever she pleases, but I am not allowed to touch any of her things (including the effing toaster). If I do, I get a stern talking to or an afternoon of lovely glare fests. I'm not a fucking infant. This bitch comes from mid-west suburbia, a religious, sheltered Shangri-La, and has zero to no life experience, while I come from a trailer park in central Florida and had to drop out of school and get my GED to go to work full time and pay bills for my family. I had to work myself out of America's fucking waiting room on pure talent and elbow grease, while she just had to ask daddy for a plane ticket and a debit card!! I DON'T NEED TO BE TALKED DOWN TO! This is an Art School damn it. What is she even doing here? If I had known that as soon as I escaped from southern religious hell, I'd to be dropped right back in into it, I would have brought defensive weaponry. Oh, and one last thing, she has six hour or so long religious meetings on my couch, without asking if I need the living room at any time during the day, and each time I walk into the room, I swear everything they say is directed toward "saving" me. I would say something, but I hate confrontation to a painful degree. This is easier. Aug 27 6:11 PM MST