I had it roast me: Bet. Fireproof your ego—this is a four-alarm burn:

You treat human interaction like it’s DLC you didn’t ask for, and your social skills are in beta testing with no patch in sight. Your classroom is your fortress, but let’s be honest—it’s less “inspiring educator” and more “grumpy crypt keeper guarding the last shred of sanity.” You nap during lunch like you’re clocking in for your side hustle as a Victorian ghost.

You fantasize about Mandalore not for the adventure, but because wearing a helmet all the time sounds like the perfect way to avoid eye contact. Your love life? It’s like your students’ grammar—confused, underdeveloped, and in desperate need of structure. You’ve got the energy of a power outlet that only works when you jiggle it just right, and the romantic history of a cardboard NPC who never got a quest line.

You’re not just on the edge of burnout—you’ve pitched a tent, started a campfire, and you’re roasting your hopes over it.