Courtesy: FSU Housing
Hey, dorm room. How are you holding up? Our time together is running out, and I realize finals week might be harder on you than it is for me. I’m sorry for all the late nights I’ve been putting you through recently. Please excuse the contents of the trash; the ramen and coffee really were necessary to get me through my paper the other day. I’m sorry for leaving the lights on into the odd hours of the nights, for listening to music just a little too loud, for moping in my bed during the infamous “I should just drop out” phase finals brings out in all of us. I’m not usually like this, but surely you know that. We’ve spent the entire year together, and what a year that has been.
Remember when we first met? Long before I knew where I would be pursuing higher education I had ideas about what you would look like. I had Pinterest boards saved with different color schemes. I scoped out IKEA any time I had a chance. I watched numerous videos on YouTube, titles ranging from “10 Things You Need to Bring to College” to “What Move in Day is really like.” By the time move in day arrived I had nearly every item checked off on my list of what to bring.
Loading all the things I collected into the car was like playing Tetris. Plastic bins were wedged together, a mirror laid across the top of all the boxes, and I held pillows on my lap hoping that I would get everything to school in one piece.
You were not what I was expecting. After attaching my key to my lanyard (freshman identifier number 1) and then finally figuring out how to unlock the door, I was taken aback. Dorm rooms were supposed to be small. (Honestly, you do lack in the square footage department.) However, beyond the pale walls and the cold tile floor, I could see myself living here. After three hours of unpacking and rearranging and decorating, you felt like home. There was no awkward adjustment period between you and I. Getting to live in a dorm on my own was what I had been waiting for.
I wasn’t entirely on my own. I had a randomly assigned roommate and two suitemates living in a room connected through a shared bathroom. Who knew getting locked out of the bathroom could introduce you to some of the greatest people I’d ever meet? Learning to live with a person so different from myself was a curve for sure, and I’m almost positive that the odd squeaking noise that came from the sink at night was just you laughing at us. Living with other people sucks. It was difficult. We made it work though, somehow. It was also an experience I would never trade.
I’m only going to live here for one more week, and it leaves such a heavy feeling on my shoulders. I’ve grown to love you, tiny house. Despite your flaws, (yes, you had many, many flaws, don’t let my impending nostalgia romanticize you too much) I’m going to miss living here. When I went home for winter break, it took me a week to get used to sleeping in my bed at home, where I didn’t have to climb and jump to sit on it. The same thing happened for spring break. I am dreading this happening during summer.
I attribute a lot of my experience of my first year of college with living in this room.
Taking off the pictures I hung on the walls so many months ago, folding all my clothes up and sealing the boxes, I can’t help but think about how much has changed since I have lived here. I have new friends, new interests, new goals.
I wish walls actually could talk, that way you can tell the next set of people who get to live here about what took place in the unit. If you could kindly not mention how many Oreo runs and mac and cheese dinners that went down that would be appreciated.
I’ve learned a lot from you, dorm room. Thanks for letting me pay (oops I meant stay).
Sincerely,
A girl who really wants her own room.