Why I’ve stolen nine oranges from the FFC

Though my parents and pop culture tried to warn me against the dangers of college life — sex, drugs and drinking milkshakes in the yard — no one had anticipated the area of moral ambiguity I am currently stuck in. Ever since I started living the high life of mice-infested dorms and learned the secret to rationing FFC meal swipes, I have become a bit of a thief (sorry Mom).

I know you wouldn’t suspect it of me, but that’s the truth. It started out innocently enough with a single orange hidden away inside a jacket pocket, just one more orange than the strictly enforced two orange minimum or an extra banana secreted away inside a backpack. Soon enough though, I was moving away from fruit, no longer content with just the occasional healthy snack. Hot cups given with a trusting smile from the unsuspecting FFC worker were defiled with yogurt or ice cream.

From there it only got worse. Bagels, cookies, brownies, hard boiled eggs and basically anything that wouldn’t spoil would get shoved into a backpack. Soon I was even taking non-edible items: forks, knives and great heaping wads of napkins. CharMar trips made with the intention of buying some instant noodles or a cup of coffee ended with a handful of chopsticks and soy sauce packets. (On an unrelated note let me know if anyone knows how to get soy sauce stains out of clothing.)

I can’t imagine what you’re thinking right now or what it must feel like to have this heroic image you’ve built of me shattered so irreparably, but please don’t leave me. I sort of depend on you to feed my ego. We can work through this. Please don’t let me starve. I’ve already started taking steps to change. The day I stole an entire roll of toilet paper left unattended in the women’s bathroom was the day I knew something had to be done.

I’m trying, I promise. It’s just so hard. I’ve tried reaching out to people and talking to my friends about this problem. I’ve tried to work through it but everyone seems to be having the same trouble as I do! Between my roommate and me, there are never fewer than six oranges lying about. I basically sweat vitamin C now, which makes it no less than a miracle that I somehow manage to get sick every other week.

Before college I never understood the inclination to stockpile ketchup packets from fast food restaurants or to fill your purse with free bread, but sadly since I have an entire drawer filled with FFC tea bags and HelWell condoms, I no longer have the right to judge. I can honestly say that the ability to hold two apples and an orange inside a sweatshirt pocket without looking like something is trying to break free from your stomach is not what I expected to learn in college.

So I am trying — really and truly trying — to improve myself. Maybe one day I will be able to pass by a Breezeway event without feeling the need to take one of every single item on the table (whether they’re meant for me to take or not). But for now it’s dinner time, so I need to go grab my backpack.