My best friend told me last night that I work like a psycho, but I found someone else who's a psycho too

There's a plate of salad not eaten.  There's bits of chicken that were left alone.  The plate is bigger than a human head, and the orange juice is half gone.  The chocolate chip pancakes are in ruins; they're in bits and pieces.  The lighting is cheap, as well as the booth.  The service is mediocre.  The food itself--well, chain restaurants.  It's not even.  It's a chain diner.  The company I'm keeping is engaging but loquacious, and perhaps a little too much like myself.

This is the sad night out that is the break from this crazy, awful tailspin of a senior year.  I mean, the company I was with was great but the concept was skewed.  I just recently found out that Queens College doesn't e-mail; they send physical letters through the post office.  I don't know why Queens College is stuck in the 1950's, but I've been obsessively checking my e-mail for news from them every second of every day and now it seems the point was moot.  Now I have to search through the mail in my house, and HOORAY for that, because my mother is actually more disorganized than I am.

I'm exhausted and I was a horrible, horrible person to be out with last night. I almost fell asleep like three times, and to make things worse I took work phone calls during the meal.  I've been so sick lately, and so stressed.  I'm waiting for the point this post should be making to just get blurted out as not Rita types beside me, but a blue eyed blonde who doesn't give a rip about my existence types beside me carelessly.

So I guess the point I'm making is, the only way to get through this horrible thing called senior year is to remember the good parts.  As pathetic as the concept of the night out may be, it reminds you that you are working so that one day, hopefully soon, you will have a life where you can smile at the person across from you instead of squint at them and wonder about the work you have to do when you get home.