I heard you knocking at 2 a.m., but I had a midterm the next day and your roommate issues seemed petty and ridiculous. I should have known that you, who had never shared a room before, were just scared and learning to adapt. I should have realized that this was a transitional moment for you. I should have tried to help you both learn and grow from the experience, instead of moving you into a new space. I should have answered the damn door.

I smelled the alcohol on your breath, but another report would have meant that I was up for a few more hours and I was exhausted from the gym. I should have realized that this wasn’t the first time or the last time. I should have seen the signs of alcoholism emerging like a spring flower when the stress of finals week was upon us. I shouldn’t have written it off as freshman antics in an attempt to be the cool RA. I should have got you into the counseling you so desperately needed, instead of waiting for someone else to catch you drinking.

I saw the cuts on your wrist, one week before you tried to kill yourself. I was waiting to talk to you alone, but the timing was never right and I was busy and you were never home and no amount of QPR training could have readied me for that moment. I should have asked about the pills that I saw you taking but I wanted to give you privacy. I should have worked harder to build a community so that you would trust me with your issues. I should have invited you to dinner with me instead of pushing you away because I didn’t know what to do.

But, I was not the perfect RA. I tried so hard to be the resource and the policy enforcer and to keep you all safe from yourselves. But I was only a year older than most of you. I was still a kid too, and struggling to carry my own emotional baggage.

I am so sorry that you had to be the trial and error in my career path. I am sorry that you had to feel forgotten and ignored and unimportant so that I could learn the best ways to handle a crisis. I apologize that I was not the RA you wanted or the RA that you needed. I’m sorry that I was too young to understand that you were a real person with real problems. I’m sorry I was unable to carry your baggage too.

I was not new to the position when any of these events transpired, but I had also never handled a real crisis before. I didn’t know how to bandage wounds and solve conflicts. I didn’t know that I had the strength in me to learn how to problem-solve in the moment. I didn’t know that I would be able to get between fighting couples and intervene drug deals. I didn’t know that I had the ability to stop a suicide attempt or to provide a safe space for someone to come out.

I learned that from you all. The Residents that I let myself forget about when it was most important. The plans I always made but never followed through on.

I still see your faces like flashcards when I lay down to sleep. Always reminding me of my mistakes, of the help I could have offered.

I find pieces of you in my current residents. In every domestic dispute or self-harm victim. In every hazing report or missing student report. I bend over backwards to ensure their survival in an eco-system trying to break them. I make sure they are not forgotten.

I thought I got into this field because of the students I connected with. I thought it was the programming and the community building that made me good at my job. But I was wrong.

It was always about you.

It was about correcting my mistakes and making sure that they never happen again.

It was about finding the kid trapped in the burning house and breathing new life into their lungs.

I learned this skill from you, and I’m sorry.