I never
realized how many people roam the halls at three in the morning. I also never
really thought about how the walls were thin enough to hear the conversations
my next-door neighbors were having. Well, not until my roommate and I “needed
space” and I slept in the common room of our suite.
Whoever
said that you didn’t need to be best friends with your roommate couldn’t have
been more accurate. I went into school expecting my roommate and I to become as
close as can be, but I’m sure that she expected me to make my bed every
morning. Sometimes we go into situations thinking we know exactly how they will
play out, and then life throws us a curve ball.
As for my
situation, it got messy for a second, but, as things always do, it seemed to
work itself out. I slept in the common room for a night or two and when I moved
back into the room, it was decided that I would try my best to make my bed each
day. We began to recognize that the relationship needed to be built on
compromise; and so, we started focusing on the give-and-take aspect of living
together.
So, here
we are, halfway through the first semester and figuring out how to co-exist so
nobody ends up dragging their mattress into the common room again. Our
relationship definitely isn’t perfect, but the experience has taught me that it
doesn’t have to be perfect to be functional. We’ve gone from my roommate
wanting to transfer second semester to her braiding my hair before bed at
night. Many things have happened over the course of the last six weeks, some
good, some bad, but all have been formative in their own way.
I’ve
learned what it takes to be a good roommate and a good friend. Sleeping in the
common room has taught me that not all experiences will be positive, but they
will all serve as a catalyst for growth in one way or another. In this case,
I’ve grown to realize that my roommate and I can live together without being
best friends. Perhaps, more importantly, I should make my bed in the morning.