There's no denying that when I got my housing letter in the mail this past summer, I was only really interested in finding out who I'd be living with for the next year. Of course I was concerned with where I'd have to lay my head at night, but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't more worried about whose face I'd have to look at every single day for the next two semesters (I say that in an affectionate fashion).

Now, as a small preface, I'll probably need to explain a few things: I live in suite-style dorm, meaning there are two bedrooms, a full bathroom, and a living area. This means that I'd have three roommates, which to me meant four closets to pick clothes from, four people crowding around a bathroom sink, and four snack stashes to browse late at night. I grew up with a younger sibling and was conditioned with a mentality of "what's yours is your and what's mine is yours," so sharing wasn't a foreign concept to me.

For the most part, I was pretty nervous about who I'd be sharing a space with. Would they like me? Would it be like on "Friends," where we all love each other and have all kinds of zany adventures together? Or would it turn out like "The Roommate," where she'd go crazy and put my kitten in a dryer and try to kill both me and my boyfriend? Needless to say, all sorts of anxieties and wild possibilities were clouding my judgement on the matter leading up to my ever-impending move-in date.

Thankfully, after I opened my letter, thoroughly researched all of them on social media, and talked to them through a group chat for months, I learned that they all seemed fairly sane and personable enough to share a living space with. Little did I know that a roster changes to our room were going to be made soon due to school transfers, dorm switches, and extra additions. By move-in week, only two of the original letter holders would be housed in our two little 12'x12' rooms and two brand-new people were to be placed in our abode.

The week after arrival was all a blur, and I can't even recall how many times we rearranged, cleaned out, set up, and "does this look okay"-ed before we were all finally settled. It goes without saying that the whole endeavor of moving in was such a whirlwind that we hardly got the chance to spend time getting to know each other.

I suppose my point is that I genuinely came to fall in love with my roommates. As apprehensive and nervous as I was from the beginning to move in, I can't imagine a better outcome. My roommates have sincerely become my family in just the short amount of time that I've lived with them. Sure, there may be times when I want to drag them out of the bathroom, or throw a coffee cup at them from across the room, or tackle them for the TV remote, but all in all, without these girls, my college experience would have fizzled out from the get-go.

What I've been trying to say, in a rather wordy and round-about way, is that living with others in college can be a mixed bag of experiences and opportunities. You may not like who you end up with, or you may come out as lucky as I did. It's all about your attitude and collecting on those experiences.

Personally, I'm elated with how my living situation turned out, because these people have become my family, my support, home away from home, and some of my best friends. The late nights, lazy days, impromptu outings, and complete belonging that they surround my days and nights with all make my time in college so much brighter, and I couldn't be more thankful for them.

So here's a salute to all of the people that are in the same boat as me. To those of you who also fell in love with the people you got to live with, this one is for you.