There are two things that you need to know about me in order to understand anything that I write.
First thing: I am a super sappy person who puts meaning behind everything. And I mean everything. I will find some way to make my morning routine as meaningful and profound as possible. Brushing my hair is taken way more seriously than you brushing your hair. I promise.
Second thing: I tend to think about my life as a story already written rather than me writing it myself. I like to think that my future is planned out and that I can easily access it if I think long and hard. Sometimes I overlook what is happening right now because I am trying to figure out what will one day be. I know this seems normal and I am sure I am not the only one who likes to think of their future excessively,right? Let’s just say I am not.
Moving along now. All of this thinking brings me back to a few days ago when I was excitedly planning my room for next year. I was drawing out the different arrangements of my non-existent furniture when I realized holy $*%&, this is the last time I will be planning my college room. (and now you see what I mean when I say I put too much meaning behind everything) So, the next phase consisted of me looking around my room and reflecting. Just thinking about how I got to where I am and how I will never get these moments back. Then I started to build a relationship with this entire thing. This entire idea of my room having a certain meaning is now turning into a relationship. I had a 18 year relationship with my room growing up. The house may have changed but the room represented my 18 years of trying to figure out who I was. But what about my college room? All I get are these four small years in this room?
Why is this important? Maybe to you it isn’t and this might be to you what science is to me, confusing and boring. But if you understand what I am saying then you get why I am freaking out. I feel like my room, if you were to walk in it right now, could tell you everything about me. And if you were to go back two years and walk in my room when I was a freshman, you would see a whole other side of me.
This room, this space, my place of solitude represents everything I have become from the day I left home. It displays my growth, it highlights my interest, and holds so many bonding moments. When I think of my first room in my home away from home I think of dancing to my roommate’s music while getting ready or fighting with my boyfriend and then crying to my friends (not my best moment). In my room now I hold moments with new and old friends like the moment I told one of best friends that I knew we would be best friends, or moments of staying in and eating ice cream while watching Netflix. These are the things that I am afraid to lose.
I know this sounds crazy and I should be dreading the fact that I am one year away from never sitting in the student section at an Aggie game or one year away from saying good-bye to T-shirt tuesdays. But I am not dreading those as much as I am dreading the day when I have to pack up my number from my first F2B try-out that I have pinned on my wall. I am dreading saying good-bye to this room I have built with these memories that represent all the craziness that comes with your college years.
All I want to tell you is to one day look around, and see all that you have built around you. Everything you are is represented in this confined little space and yet we think nothing of it.