Freshman and sophomore year, I had roommates like most everyone else.
I had never even considered living alone. It sounded so daunting and lonely, like an insurmountable task I wasn't ready for.
By the end of sophomore year, we had to think about our living situation for the following year, and one thing led to another and I ended up choosing to live by myself for my junior year.
At first, it was a bizarre adjustment. I had never been completely alone in my own living space. I'll admit I shed a couple of tears those first few nights, but over time I began to get used to it, and then appreciate it, and now I value it more than any experience I've had thus far.
When I lived with roommates, everything we did revolved around each other. Whether we meant for it to be that way or not, it's how things were.
Our plans, our groceries, our friends, they all depended on one another.
I felt diluted at times, like I had to sacrifice certain aspects of my time or money or attitude in order to make my roommates happier and everyone equally comfortable in our living space.
Living with friends is amazing in that you get to make irreplaceable memories with each other at any time of the day and share an intimacy not many others can attain without living with someone.
But that's just it, living with roommates tends to metamorphosize into a situation that makes things revolve more around others rather than yourself.
Although that's not always a bad thing, and some people would prefer that, living alone finally forced me to really look at myself.
It forced me to be honest with how I really wanted to spend my time, what I wanted to decorate the walls with in my space, what I really wanted to wear and how I wanted to act.
When I felt down or had an issue, I had to face it on my own. I learned what I needed to thrive, and how I could provide that to myself without any assistance.
