Dearest Snack Bar,

First of all, I’d like to start by thanking you, not only for existing, but also for surviving all that we as a sorority have put you through. I know it can’t be easy, and you’re a trooper through everything. I’m writing to apologize to you.

I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason. You, snack bar, are that person. And the reason, you ask? The bottomless pit that is a sorority house.

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You undoubtedly have the hardest job in the house, and none of us make it any easier on you. You are tasked with sustaining us through late-night snacking, distracting us from endless hours of studying, and helping us through the toughest of times. None of those are easy tasks, but the combination must be near deadly.

I cannot imagine what it’s like to be you the day after you get restocked. You feel fresh and loaded (literally and figuratively) and ready to serve, but we ruthlessly ravage you. We don’t even give you an hour to get settled with your new additions.

I would like to take this moment to apologize to those who purchase your yummy insides. To the snack bar chairs: I know we put a lot of pressure on you, and I’m sorry for that. Those trips to Sam’s Club and Trader Joe’s must be anxiety inducing. We are all so needy, and we place those needs in your hands. Thank you for saving us money that would be otherwise wasted at the Pod or Publix. More importantly, thank you for being brave enough to be our snack bar chairs. I salute you.

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I also apologize on behalf of those who don’t even allow things to arrive to you, for those who rob you of the opportunity to acquaint yourself with your new, supposed-to-be-long-lasting friends.

I think the most heinous of crimes committed against you involves double dipping. Some of us with lesser manners think it’s acceptable to dip queso in your salsa and peanut butter in your hummus (VOMIT). For that, I am truly sorry. We in the house will work together to correct some of these behaviors.

Snack bar, beyond apologies, you are owed infinite thanks. You have saved me on nights when I didn’t have money for Pizza by the Slice but just needed a drunken snack.

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You have provided a necessary distraction on days where my work pile never seemed to lessen. You have comforted me in times of emotional stress, regular stress and nervous stress (really just all times of stress). I can’t blame you for my impending weight gain because it is I who uses you so shamelessly.

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I’ll make a deal with you–I’ll exercise some self-control and you can try to stay stocked for more than a week, okay? I know this responsibility can’t actually be placed on you, but just try to save me some BBQ chips. They’re just SO GOOD–and that way, I don’t have to embarrass myself buying snacks from on-campus vending machines.

Yours in eternal gratitude,

Your biggest fan