Freshman year roommates are either really good or really bad.

I'm sure you've read the "How My Roommate Became My Best Friend" type articles, but I am about to represent all of those doe-eyed, 18-year-old girls who went into their first year of college thinking their freshmen year roommate would be their new best friend, their new confidant, their new “person,” and who came to realize the person sleeping on the bottom bunk was actually the most selfish, immature, inconsiderate, conceited person she had ever met. So much for a great first year at college — kiss that dream goodbye.

I won’t lie — in the beginning, I thought we would be great friends. We had similar interests and we're both fluent in sarcasm. We both played volleyball in high school and we're left-handed. Now, four years later, I’m casually realizing how trivial all of these “similar interests” were. Both of us being left-handed did not, in any world, mean we were ever, ever going to become the best of friends or even acquaintances for that matter.

I actually do not know where to begin.

When did you become so awful? Was it the first night we went out and all you wanted to do was flirt with weird-looking boys, proceed to lose your wallet (on the first night of college I might add) and make me drive you back to the farthest dorm from ours to retrieve it?

Was it your laugh? It was really obnoxious.

Maybe it was your voice? It was nasally, and you were always complaining about something. If it wasn’t your allergies, it was your other “friend” down the hallway, who you honestly just gossiped about all the time. Poor gal.

It wasn’t your fault though; you were young and naive. I was young too, but apparently not as immature or selfish as you. Everything was always about you. You only talked about yourself and how everyone in your high school thought you were so pretty. You bragged about how good your volleyball team was and, though I hate to sound mean (just kidding, I love it), your actual skills did not impress.

I think the real turning point was when you got your first “college boyfriend.” I’m going to just throw this out there, but maybe you shouldn’t have graduated high school a year early. Maybe you wouldn’t have been so selfish and inconsiderate. Maybe you would have realized that we shared this space — the two of us; your boyfriend did not live in room 214 as well. Maybe you wouldn’t have brought him over at all hours of the night, and the afternoon and the morning.

I think each time I walked in on you two hooking up on my side of our room, I grew to hate you a little more.

I think when I tried to sleep early so I would actually wake up for my 8AM and all I could hear was you two making the most disgusting let’s-try-and-hook-up-quietly-but-not-that-quietly noises, I grew to actually detest your existence.

I think when he asked, “Did she run away again?” after walking in on you two, once again, going at it, and I snarled back, “Nope, still here,” that I lost all respect for him — not that I had any to begin with because, well, he sucked.

I think when I slammed the door as I left because you two were being loud (once again), and I couldn’t sleep (once again), and then you apologized via Post-It note:“Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

It literally happened the next night, and I lost all respect for you as a human being.

Accurate representation of me.

I think you ruined my freshman year of college.

I dreaded coming back to my room because I didn’t want to talk to you or look at you or hear you and your man-child fool around or listen to your laugh or hear you complain about anything and everything.

I never felt at home, like I should have, in my own dorm room.

But also, thank you.

I learned that for as much as you sucked the soul out of me, my real freshman year best friend filled it with love, memories, acceptance and laughter.

I learned to be really awesome at passive-aggressive comments, because I still hate conflict (May not be a real awesome trait, but whatever).

I learned that some people in this world are just awful (here's looking right at you).

Thank you for solidifying the fact that I not only hate PDA, but all noises associated with it. There is only so much lip-smacking, tongue-sloshing sounds a girl can take before she wants to rip her ears off.

Oh, and thank you for the food, because I 100 percent stole so many of your cookies and snacks from every care package you ever received. I thought it was fair and still do.

Never ^^

Thank you for being a huge driving force behind my return home, because if I stuck it out, I may have never ended up at my dream school, with all the good memories associated with it.

But hold up.

I am not giving you any credit for my happiness. I did that. I found that within myself.

You did everything you could to drag me down and make me miserable, but despite you and your parasitic ways, I found happiness.

So, in summary — I really, really, really don’t like you and I never will. But I also don’t think about you anymore. I talk about you only to share freshman roommate horror stories and laugh about how terrible you were to live with all year long.

You’re the punch line of my favorite joke.

Kind (LOL) Regards,

Your Freshman Year Roomie