A weak attempt at making my thoughts into poetry

It's very very peculiar to me,
my roommate's sense of normalcy.

Surely it must be exhausting, all right,
to go out and party on each non-school night?

And, how, I must wonder
does she work so fast,
when I have less,
yet my work lasts?

I don't understand how she does it each morning,
putting on makeup and hairspray, still yawning.

And I don't know what is the deal with her friend,
Is there something there, and when did it end?

I like him, you see, a whole awful lot,
and it really puts me in a terrible spot.

Go talk to your roommate,
and ask her opinion.
Surely she's normal,
and will know how to win him.

And tonight I will sit,
alone, on my computer.
She'll probably go out,
"My roommate? leave without her."

And her friend, the beautiful one that I like-
he goes and parties with them every night.

And I'm seventeen so I sit back at home,
watching movies and reading, alone.

Unable to drink and unable to party
Though it doesn't sound terribly good to me, anyway.

yer pal,
swegan