FIT

I can’t believe that there is less than a month left of my time in this dorm.  

In three weeks, the One Direction posters, creepy polaroids, childish drawings, ornaments, deflated balloons, and magazine tear-outs will be gone, leaving only bland white walls.  We’re going to have to take down all of our Asian fridge magnets, famous quotes, and beautiful paintings.  All of our dishes and utensils and our endless supply of chopsticks from Thai food will be gone.  We’re going to have to throw out all of our food, probably leading to discoveries of various molds and bacterium.  All of my clothes will be off of the floor, all of my books packed in boxes.  

I remember buying all of this stuff.  I remember going to Costco and stocking up on oatmeal and mango chunks, buying various teas and iced tea mixes.  I remember buying those plates and those cups, and all of the dusty, barely used, cleaning supplies under our bathroom sink.  

I remember how freaked out we all were, and how nervous I was.  The first day, I watched my parents walk away from me after we ate at Chipotle, then walked back to the dorm and crept into my room while my roommate was asleep.  I remember the smell of my Lavender air freshener, which reminds me of FIT to this day.  I remember the pointless orientation meetings and wanting to get Henna tattoos with Rachel.

I remember sitting in the kitchen and laughing, rather yelling, with the Rachels.  I remember the Asian time machine, the Thomas Edison quotes, the bagel taped to the bulletin board, making a One Direction fanclub on facebook, meeting models at DKNY, meeting Oscar de la Renta, ending up at a random Italian street fair, dying my hair dark, meeting Tim Gunn, going to see Timeflies and a bunch of tweens makeout, being creatures of the night and taking photographs everywhere, sleeping outside for SNL, sleeping outside for One Direction, almost meeting Harry Styles, seeing One Direction at MSG, being stuck in Hurricane Sandy, singing with a guy in the staircase, baking cookies literally EVERY NIGHT, going to an empty Polish club, going to the ghetto, electing Obama, having Rachel puke into a wine glass, buying a Harry Styles cardboard cutout and pretending he was on campus, waiting outside the Trump Hotel with Rachel and freezing, hookah nights, Voxing a million times a day, dying during Winter Break because I missed them, that hobo at McDonalds telling us to tell his mom he was going to be a little late because he had an extra burger, giving myself a tattoo, having Foolty come over… a lot, puking through my nose, taking photos on the beach hungover, being shipped with someone who would never be into me, celebrating 40 days of Lent, meeting at the doggy bed, playing Thruth or Nipples, making out with everyone.  I could go on for days.

I look at the mess we’ve made in our lives and in our apartments and I can’t believe that this is college.  I would have never thought last August that I would love it here so much.  I would have never thought that I would meet some of the greatest people in the world, and still keep in touch with the loves of my life back at home.  Class can end, but I want to stay here until I’m emotionally ready to move on.