Since the two of us live in adjacent, single dorm rooms, my fantastic, brilliant, kind-by-nature hallmate and I have long considered each other pseudo-roommates, prompting the given title of “neighbor.” One night during the first semester, one or the other of us knocked on the wall that separated our rooms and received several knocks in response, an unintentional, nonverbal conversation for just us two. From that moment onward, that wall became a form of communication unique to her and me. An acknowledgment of togetherness, it was a source of support that carried me through my first semester and all throughout my second, reminding me that no matter what, I am not alone.

One night, as I plowed diligently through piles of schoolwork, or at least what I could do between binge-watching YouTube videos and Netflix series, a message popped up on my phone from a friend I had met through college theater. A vibrant, passionate, strong woman, she never ceases to amaze me simply by being the incredible person she is. This particular night, she texted to tell me about a hefty pack of Studio Ghibli movies to marathon because she knows how big a nerd I am for them.

Despite the fact that it was after midnight by this point already, she did not hesitate to invite me to her apartment to join her and made no complaint when we spent the entirety of that night screaming our hearts out to show tunes and our favorite songs, recreating full musicals and playing every part, and just talking. Since then, she’s become more and more one of my best friends with every day that passes.

By letting me be a part of her life, she has changed mine ineffably for the better and shown me that when I open up to people I care about, I won’t lose anything from myself but will rather be filled with joy.

During the course of a particularly difficult week, I was having a hard time finding room enough in my schedule to grab a sufficient meal. A friend of mine in college concert choir began to recognize a pattern in my confessing to not eating and would have absolutely none of it. Setting her own ridiculously busy schedule aside, she sent me back to my room to get work done and appeared twenty or so minutes later with a ramen bowl filled to the brim, a sweet bun, and a non-negotiable order to eat right this minute.

That beautiful, powerful, genius of a girl, who just so happens to now be my future roommate, taught me that no matter what happens, there are people around me who have my back and want me to succeed just as much if not much more than I’d like that myself.

As a hyper-emotional person, I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, etched in with neon vibrancy and a half dozen spotlights blazing in its direction. Upon learning of something that troubled me greatly, I can only imagine how downcast my face looked when a dear friend and fellow music major asked me how I was. I told him tersely I had news to share, realizing in the moment how desperately I wanted to talk with someone. Without needing another word, this compassionate, empathetic, amazing friend simply asked, “Is this a Chipotle conversation?” I nodded, and in a moment plans were made to meet at Chipotle for dinner later that week.

When the time came, he sat, listened, gave input I wanted to hear, simply stood by my emotions even when I might’ve made no sense. He showed me the impact that a person can have simply by listening to a friend and how powerful demonstrating your care for another, in whatever way you see fit, can be.

On a particularly sunny and uneventful day, I headed over to another freshman dorm a little ways away from mine to meet up with a friend, another individual I’d met through college theater. A hilarious, confident, caring human being, he is one of those people whom you know from the start and for a fact you are lucky getting to know. As we headed inside, we glanced over at the building’s parlor, which just so happened to have served as the stage for our theater performance.

With a single glance for affirmation and barely any words exchanged, suddenly we were reenacting the entire plot of our show, putting on an exclusive, two-person production of "12 Angry Jurors."

Nearly shrieking with laughter as we shifted into character after character, we not only pulled off a STUNNING performance but also got to know each other much better simply by engaging with one another and never shying away from experience or absurdity. He taught me that being myself with another person is not only so much easier than putting on airs for the benefit of another but it also yields exponentially more joy, seeing as how instead of finding an acquaintance, I met one of my best friends.

There are so many more stories, so many more people, so many more lessons. To every single one of you, thank you. I love you all.