To The College Roommate Who Was Just A Roommate

To The College Roommate Who Was Just A Roommate

Legend has it that your college roommate is supposed to be your best friend for life.

For me, moving away to college meant several things. It meant packing up everything that I knew and moving two hours away, leaving behind my friends that I’d kept for years and my family whom I’d lived with all of my life.

Going into college, I had high hopes that I’d be roommates with someone who I could consider my best friend, someone who could potentially be my maid-of-honor at my wedding one day. While that might not have been what my first semester of college brought me, I’m not mad about it either.

My college roommate was just a roommate, and I’m okay with that.

That being said, I want to take the opportunity to say thank you for being just a roommate. I had several friends who had gone in blind and they found themselves with some pretty crazy (almost unbelievable) stories to tell. While I don’t have many (if any) stories to tell about our time living together, I’m thankful that at the end of the day, we were at least able to coexist.

If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have met my friends (and my future roommate). I wouldn’t have felt the need to branch outside of our room and get to know some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, who happened to live in our hall.

If it weren’t for you always staying in our room, I might’ve sat in our room forever and missed out on some of the greatest friendships and experiences that college has to offer, and for that, I thank you.

I’m thankful that you held me accountable without saying a single word at all. Typically, roommates ask each other about their classes and exams, but because at times we barely spoke at all, I found myself becoming more responsible day by day, living by my planner and my schedule.

I feel like saying “thank you for not speaking to me” will come off the wrong way, so instead I’d like to say thank you for teaching me a thing or two about silence. All of my life, silence has been uncomforting to me, the absence of noise alone could drive me up a wall before I moved to school in the fall. However, you taught me that sometimes, silence is the best option.

All my life, I’ve heard that silence is golden, but I feel as if it took me 18 years to really understood what that expression meant, and for that I thank you.

Lastly, thank you for teaching me how to be alone. The day that I found out that you were moving out was a rough one, although I don’t like to admit it. I myself didn’t understand my emotions at the time; I mean, we weren’t close, we barely even talked, so why was I so upset to hear that you were moving out at the end of the semester?

The answer is rather simple: I was afraid of being alone. Although it had felt as if I was alone all semester, you moving out meant me really being alone, which terrified me.

However, after almost a month since the new semester began, I credit all of my new found independence to you. Now living on my own, I am accountable for everything that goes on in our room, and yes, I still think of it as our room because you were a part of it.

For the first week or so, things felt incredibly empty. Not only furniture-wise, but the room somehow lacked personality. Although we never talked, I found myself missing just hearing you talk on the phone (like you did all the time) because now all that I was left with was myself.

That being said, if you get a roommate who is just a roommate, it’s not the end of the world. If your roommate moves out after a semester, it’s not the end of the world.

Things happen and people change, but at the end of the day, your college experience is your college experience, and you have complete control over what that looks like. So get out of your room, and get to know some of the people who live in your hall. Ask the girl who sits next to you what her name is.

College is too damn short and too damn expensive to not take advantage of the experiences while they last.

Cover Image Credit: Brianna Morris

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A Letter To My Freshman Dorm Room As I Pack Up My Things

Somehow a 15' x 12' room became a home.


Dear Geary 411,

With your creaky beds, concrete walls, and mismatched tile floors, you are easily overlooked as just another room we were randomly assigned to— but you were different. Inside your old walls, I have made some of the best memories of my life that I will hold on to forever.

Thank you for welcoming my neighbors in with open arms who quickly became friends who didn't knock and walked in like you were their own.

I feel like an apology is needed.

We're sorry for blaring the music so loud while getting ready and acting like we can actually sing when, in reality, we know we can't. Sorry for the dance parties that got a bit out of control and ended with us standing on the desks. Sorry for the cases of the late-night giggles that came out of nowhere and just would not go away. Sorry for the homesick cries and the "I failed my test" cries and the "I'm dropping out" cries. We're sorry for hating you at first. All we saw was a tiny and insanely hot room, we had no idea what you would bring to us.

Thank you for providing me with memories of my first college friends and college experiences.

As I stand at the door looking at the bare room that I first walked into nine months ago I see so much more than just a room. I see lots and lots of dinners being eaten at the desks filled with stories of our days. I see three girls sitting on the floor laughing at God knows what. I see late night ice cream runs and dance battles. I see long nights of homework and much-needed naps. Most importantly, I look at the bed and see a girl who sat and watched her parents leave in August and was absolutely terrified, and as I lock you up for the last time today, I am so proud of who that terrified girl is now and how much she has grown.

Thank you for being a space where I could grow, where I was tested physically, mentally and emotionally and for being my home for a year.


A girl who is sad to go

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When Was The Last Time You Were Alive?

If you can't post it for everyone to see, was it truly a remarkable moment?


Being alive is an essentially effortless act.

In theory, as long as you're eating food, drinking water, and performing as a human, assuming no major health conditions, most of us are living.

The tragedy I see most often is so very few of us are alive.

Now, I'm not suggesting you drop your textbooks and sprint up a mountain, or go broke trying to find yourself in new activities and events.

That's the illusion pressed onto so many of us. Social Media, more importantly, FOMO, has taught us that in order to truly be alive we need to make sure we travel far and wide, eat gourmet and unique food, and essentially, immerse ourselves in something phenomenal. However, regardless of what you do- don't do it without an audience and the value of your experience will only be justified by the number of likes you accrue on your #bestvacation ever because you #lovenature. With your back to the camera and wispy hair flowing in the beach air, you hit all of your angles, how else will you prove that you're alive to Instagram?

I fell for this too. I spent so much of my life constantly trying to get to the next phase life had to offer. High school was fun, but I was counting the days until graduation. Growing up in a small hometown wasn't awful, but I had sticky note calendars until my next vacation. And day in and day out, events would happen all around me that were just too "normal." I wasn't alive, but I was living.

Setting your soul on fire and truly living is so much more difficult than you could ever expect, but not because you have to drain savings and take along a buddy to snap all the perfect moments.

Choosing to be alive is realizing how important it is to be in this moment or phase in life and accepting it for all its worth. Instead of racing to the finish line or trying to sprint into your next season of assumed happiness, take time to notice all the beautiful and small things that make this moment so important. There is so much life to be found in simple moments.

Semesters are ending, we are all racing to summer. Perhaps in the process, take note of the routine cafeteria worker that constantly smiles at you and says hello. Or perhaps, giggle at the fact that in just a few short weeks that bus driver you see every single morning won't be apart of your morning routine.

The farther I get from what used to be my normal, the more I miss that season of life. I haven't lived in my hometown since I was eighteen, but I miss the simplicity that came with my drives to high school listening to Kanye West and the coziness of a small town opening its doors to start a new day. I never stopped to be alive in those moments, I was just simply living.

Wherever your next phase of life might be, it will always be there. You will always have something else coming. However, once this moment is gone. It's truly gone. Don't waste beautiful views trying to capture just the right picture for Instagram, take in the moment.

Living and experiencing life can be as simple as trusting that you're exactly where you need to be in life. Cherish each moment as you're in it. The next moment is coming whether you're ready or not.

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