There's a place in the world for the angry young man

Today's issue in the seemingly neverending and ridiculously painful battle that is my attempt to get a master's degree:
The comps require a statement that I intend to take them. Something I was never fucking told about. Believe me, had I known I would've stated my goatfucking intent. To graduate I need to fill out a form-something I have tried no fewer than thrice to do. But Jesus Christ on roller skates if I weren't brushed off like dandruff on a black shirt each time I brought it up. I do not feel that hate is a healthy emotion-but I hate the way this program is run and I hate that I've wasted this much of my life as a part of something I despise. And I hate someone-really and truly with emotions I can not say anything but that I am ashamed to feel-I hate that someone and tho I have made that person dead to me like the zombies in a George Romero film she continues on walking and acting in my frames and scenes. If only I had known before-I could've avoided all of this, made different choices. I would never allow anyone else to go thru what I've gone thru with this program unless I wanted that person to suffer. If I wanted to see someone miserable I would recommend this program to that person. There is a part of me that knows that if such a desire existed everything I write could be accessed by many if not all of the people in the program or in charge of the program. I have thought about that and I don't give a fuck. I don't have the balls to say this shit out loud so I write it and if someone were to call me out for my opinions I would be not upset but relieved. I want found out-like a guilty party walking free I want my secrets to come to light-I want to be let go of this and only being called out for my opinions will do that. I know--it won't happen. No one that could free me reads this.
Hey-life's a bitch and then you die.