Dear roomie,
Oh, man. We made it. Finals week is here and I’ve already started packing for the long drive home. I’ve lived with you for eight months now and it’s pretty hard to believe that in less than two weeks I won’t be living with you anymore. While you and I have a bit of a different story than most freshman roomies (we requested to room with each other after having met once), I still think it was pure luck that we wound up together. See, because, you’re not just my roomie, you’re my best friend here at college.
You were the only semi-familiar face orientation week, and therefore my automatic partner for every meal, mandatory event, and social activity. You put up with my social awkwardness and away-from-home-for-the-first-time anxiety, made midnight Walmart runs with me for all of the basic necessities I somehow forgot (despite bringing way too much) and included me in all your fun.
As the weeks went on we grew closer and closer as I learned more about you and your family and you figured out all of my quirks and realized just how much hot tea I actually drink. We divided, arranged, redivided and rearranged the room and complained to each other about our classes and that one annoying girl who asks too many questions. We jammed out to Panic! At the Disco and showed each other our favorite songs and all of a sudden you became my college bestie.
Then we got weird. You’ve helped me pick my outfits so I don't look like I slept the amount I actually slept. You’ve edited my papers, brought me McDonald’s French fries at 2 a.m., heard me cry on the phone to my mom, patiently listened to my boy troubles, lent me your duffle bag and fed me cupcakes. I’ve done your laundry with mine, made you PB & Js when you were too busy to make it to the caf yourself, listened to your boy troubles, had dinner with your parents, met all of your cats and told you that you absolutely cannot wear those shoes with that dress. We’ve taken care of each other, made fun of each other, had each other’s backs.
Next year we’ll both be Resident Assistants in different halls, but you can bet your bottom dollar our clusters are eating dinners with both of us and I’m crashing in your room on my off weekends. You’re my homie, my girl, my go-to, the person I never address by your actual name, my best friend here (and one of my best friends overall, too, you make my MySpace top 10 for sure).
So to the best freshman roomie I ever could have asked for, thanks for doing life with me. You rock.
P.S. Let’s live together again so I can keep stealing your clothes and food, love you, bye.
