a random paragraph

currently, i feel empty. This decision to enter the mph essay contest was probably not one i should have made during my holidays! the one and only time i actually have an excuse to be a bum and im stuck trying to write yet another essay. someone pleeease give me a topic! im hopeless at deciding on the direction...as probably is evident from my constant indecisiveness...:) ive somewhat settled on (once again...urgh) writing about my experience with going overseas, i know, i know, thats probably old by now but i cant think of anything else! ive written a paragraph...i actually wonder if i should change the tone and make it a little more light-hearted. what do you guys think?

The smiling faces of my new guardians were ostensibly welcoming and warm. My substitute parents, was how I was supposed to think of them. However, in the adolescent style that teenagers are so infamous for, I soon developed a certain contemptuous disregard for the boarding house mistress, along with every other one of my housemates. She never did enough for us, didn't understand us, never made an effort or defended us, or stuck with us when we thought something was important. The lack of computers, horrendously poor quality of food, and shortage of house space, amongst other things, were contested, debated, and ultimately, dismissed, filed away in the chronicles of Ideas That Sounded Good but Exceeded the Budget. In retrospect, I suppose we never stopped to think about how our discontent made her feel, or the difficulties she was facing with the things that she was forcing on us, sometimes also against her will. But it was those injustices which opened my eyes to the truly diverse nature of humanity. It is amazing how many different approaches can be taken by different people when faced with the same situation. Often, these differences were acknowledged but never really overcome. I vividly remember the heated spats we inevitably had when gathered as a year-level; tears, frustration, anger, exhaustion, and discomfort filling the air until it felt too heavy to breathe. The shrillness of the screams, the raw anger which rode under the cloak of voice seemed draining, and after a while, they dissolved into one another, became a depressing monotone, and left us all in the same place we started. Doors would slam as girls stalked back to their rooms, sometimes accompanied by the flustered roommate. Grudges and everlasting animosity were forged over something as simple as the design for the year-level jumper. And at the end of it all, the fights and disagreements were simply written down to the fact that, “She's just like that.”

need comments on this! and i know its a little exaggerated. just go with me here :)