You will either be "THAT" roommate or have "THAT" roommate.

I just got out of the dorms, and while they were great, it's an understatement to say I'm glad to be out of that place. I totally understand their purpose... force awkward freshman to interact with each other on a daily/nightly basis. Makes sense to me. But after day 234 of my ventmate smoking me out of my room, things got old. Now I've moved into my own perfect house with two perfect housemates. While I look forward to living with them and all our adventures, my freshman year roommate will always have a place in my heart. 

She taught me that, much to my surprise, I was "THAT" roommate... You know, the roommate from hell. The one that ruins your life on a daily basis. Did I change my ways? Not once. Did I even know I was "THAT" roommate? Not until the day we moved out. 

I suppose she could have tried to talk to me about my behaviors, but I most likely would have slowly removed my headphones and responded,

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over my 9th episode of Supernatural that I've watched today."

And at that point she would have realized that I was a lost cause. Beyond help. If I were her, my next move, after filing for a roommate change, would have been to invest in a pair of Beats to drown out my crying to my math tutor. 

How did I get to this point you ask? How do you become "THAT" roommate? Well let me tell you...

Step One: To start off on a bad foot, I instantly arrived to the dorms and claimed my three quarters of the room before she ever even entered. Some may call it asserting dominance, but I just know what I want. She never had a chance. 

Step Two: The second I made friends, I became a ghost. The only thing to assure my roommate of my actual existence was the perfect navy and pink bedding and slight hint of glitter left over on the carpet. I spent all my time in other people's rooms. Studying... not studying. You know, until I had to go to bed and came in and TURNED ALL THE LIGHTS ON. What? I can't take my contacts out in the dark. I could lose an eye. 

Step Three: Sometimes, my friend's roommates would get upset that we were always in there, so what was the logical solution? MOVE TO MY ROOM. No, I swear, my roommate won't mind. When 2:30 AM rolls around, even a saint would mind. Looking back... that was pretty bad.

Step Four: My roommate left every single weekend. So naturally, my room became the hall hangout. We would even move mattresses around so mass amounts of people could sleep over. I abused her absence 100% and I admit it. But do I regret it? Absolutely not. 

Step Five: During formal season, my room became a full service makeup, hair, and nail salon for my sisters and friends. There were times where four girls would be in my room, swallowed in a mushroom cloud of toxic beauty products.There were hair extensions, fake nails, eyelashes, eyelash glue, and glitter makeup EVERYWHERE. I think I'm still trying to get glue off my eyelids. The amount of hairspray I've inhaled has probably taken years off my life, but it's the price we pay for perfect curls at date party. Did I mention my roommate's not Greek? She didn't quite get it... 

... And just like that, freshman year ended. She no longer had to listen to me hit my snooze button for two hours, because I couldn't quite get up in the morning. My fire hazard of six feet of daisy-chained extension cords had left the building. The false eyelashes had been peeled off the counter. All had been moved to my 1,000 square foot house, all fresh and clean for me to cover in crafting supplies during formal or big/little season and fill with people getting ready for Skit. The best part? My new roommates are not only okay with this, they EXPECT it, because they understand and accept every obnoxious part of me. 

Writer's Note: Roommate, if you read this, know that I am not really sorry. I did what I had to do. Not really... I did what I wanted to do. #Sorrynotsorry

And to my old RA, Kristen, you're the best. Of course we didn't move mattresses or connect extension cords. That would have been against housing policy. Love you.