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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Unblathed, eh? I'll fix that.
Of course I'm the most qualified to tackle this topic, given that I threw my phone on the ground in frustration about two hours and forty-five minutes ago. Dad interrupted me as I was talking. I got mad and flung the phone towards the (luckily carpeted) floor in the library building atrium. I don't know who saw, but I felt ridiculous.
I picked the thing up and apologized. I was the one to call him in the first place, complaining that an in-class writing assignment didn't go well because I couldn't finish what I'd planned to do in the intro.
Because it wasn't officially an exam, I didn't have my 33% more time. Why do I need to rely on 33% more time? Life doesn't give you 33% more time. Stop repeating 33% more time. I started crying near the end of the class, but that's relatively normal for me. The thing is, I don't know when "not normal for the world in general" becomes a problem that I should apply expensive therapy to. Most of the time, I'm not visibly upset about things. It's just sometimes that my humanity is reduced to a whiny blob of annoyance or anger or unreasonable anguish.
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