It all begins when you leave this place with false hope of turning your home into an Ikea catalog. 

You may even have bought that tool kit they recommend. (And if you didn't, good fucking luck)

Once you receive your furniture, you imagine your completed project and get in the building spirit.

First you lay out all the pieces, stressing about how long this is going to take you.

You look at the directions and say "WTF?" because really, where are the words?!

t's been five minutes and you're already yelling at your directions.

Trying to build by yourself is the worst idea you've ever had.

Your room is a disaster zone.

You want to call this guy, but you make no initiative to do so.

You're trying not to have a nervous breakdown but you don't know where the hell the screw goes.

Seriously, what does this even mean?

You desperately want your friends to help but they're avoiding you like the plague.

And when someone does help, you get into a lot of arguments.

And you are so frustrated, you're on the verge of tears.

Building this bed is bullshit and you can't figure out why the wooden panels don't fit.

The mattress is somehow lower than it should be and the thought of redoing the frame makes you want to rip your hair out.

You call your mom in a hysterical sob.

You're only halfway done and you just want to quit, take a nap, and watch a happy movie on Netflix.

You've done the dresser all wrong and the drawers won't roll on the track correctly.

Your chair is sad and wrong and you can't take it anymore.

You're begging for this to be over and you just want to finish.

It's been five hours and you're bleeding and physically exhausted.

And when you're finally done, you Instagram a picture of your finished project and bitch about how hard it was.