Let's just rip this Band-Aid off, I'm not really going to kill myself. Not right now. I don't have anything nearby that would do the trick. That, and my parents are coming to visit me for Thanksgivings and I don't want to ruin the weekend with a suicide. Look how thoughtful I'm being. That said, I'll wait till next week, and here's why I want to die.
Computers are of the devil. Satan created them, then he sent them out into the world to work their evil ways by doing things like, "simplifying" and "modernizing" and "enhancing" mankind's fragile existence until the appointed time when they are ready to combust. Then, like suicide bombers they go off, taking everything you entrusted to them. Like, say two and a half years worth of stuff and anything of any importance to this semester. That's right.
Last night, Max R. Swell, my hard drive (aka, Satanic nymph) decided it was time to detonate. Now he holds my files, life, education—whatever—hostage in his little binary grip. Then, the Apple people, the other imps of The Dark One, offered to help me recover my files in time for finals... for a casual $800-$1000. Helpful bastards aren't they?
So, yes. This is where I am. Praying for some relief. I need a miracle. I need 55GB of stuff back or some of you will be buying indulgences to get me out of some kind of self-inflicted purgatory. Oh, wait. I don't believe in purgatory. Okay, well then I'm just screwed. If you brought one, you can collect your indulgences on the way out.