Dear Apartment 321,

I hate(d) you.

No – really. You sucked. You were my first apartment and I had so many naïve hopes for you. The first day I moved in, you were filthy. Your previous tenants didn’t take care of you, the way I thought I would, but It didn’t matter. I was on my own and doing the whole adulthood thing. So, even if your floors were sticky and you always let the roaches in, you were mine and a part of a new chapter in my life.

Man, did things go downhill. They went downhill fast. I know it’s not your fault my roommates and I fell apart, but soon your walls became empty and shallow. It wasn’t a home anymore. My roommates and I became ships passing in the night. They used to be family – sisters. I hated you because somehow in my mind, it was all your fault.

I’d pick up extra hours at work and tell myself to study longer at the campus library because the pit of my day was coming home to you.

So many hours were spent staring at my bedroom ceiling, when again someone was too loud, conveniently on the evenings of the days I had work at 7.30 a.m. or an exam.

The Internet isn’t working again. It’s too cold in here. It’s too hot in here. The sink is full of dishes that aren’t mine. None of us know how to take out the trash. My food was eaten. I’m locked out. Our washer and dryer are broken. Maintenance is never going to come. Another fight. Another sleepless night. Oh look, another roach.

I felt red raged anger in between your walls. I think I felt what it’s like to hate someone for the first time in your architecture. Is hate too strong of a word? I don’t care. I’m too tired to care. Who did you make me? Am I a bad person? No... Maybe.

I hate this place. I hate you. I’m moving.

And, I did. I finally moved. I stood staring at your walls. Is this nostalgia? No. It can’t be. Run. Go, hurry.

Earlier this week, I ran so far from you and I wished to never see you again. But as I write this I can’t help but feel thankful and appreciative.

You were a lesson.

Not everyone shares the same mentality I do. Some people are more sensitive than others. People change. People get lost. Some people find their way – others don’t.

We all have our own demons.

And, I can’t be mad at you. I can’t be mad at my roommates. I can’t be mad at myself – because you’ve probably seen plenty of relationships fall apart and now you had a front row seat to our personal soap drama.

Things will get better and you’ll teach your next hopeful batch a new lesson.

Thanks for everything.

Sincerely,

Your melodramatic resident