Ode to My College Dorm Room

Backstory:

My junior year of college, I was a bit lost. Alone, and at a point, I had a fear for my own safety in college. One day, my frustrations got so strong, I realized I needed to put effort into building my own safe space. I took time and effort to create a college dorm room that felt like my coziest dreams. I picked out the warmest lighting, the most comforting posters and tapestries, and created a place I was truly happy to come back to after a long day of meetings and classes.

I felt happy being able to own this space. My mood truly changed - and I slowly felt stronger and safer. I was proud of myself for not letting myself fall victim to my fear and trauma. 
I had a hard time moving out at the end of junior year, knowing I was changing apartments. However, I vowed to make my senior year college dorm equally as homely, for I saw how much it helped me survive college.

With the current situation around the world,  several students were forced to abandon their college living and return “home” on short notice, including me. Besides the regular pain most students felt with leaving the “fun” college life behind, I also felt a weird pain of leaving home. My shoebox of a bedroom truly became a home. Coming back to my actual home felt unsettling - nothing made me feel as cozy as the space I built at college. I am blessed to have a “home” to come back to with my family, but it’ll take some time to adjust and create the same warmth I grew accustomed to. 

I decided to post this “Ode” today to share a feeling I (and several other students) may have when thinking back to the space they’d come back to after their countless college adventures.

Originally written April 29, 2019

Ode to My College Dorm Room

Oh, how I’ll miss you dearly.

Sometimes, oftentimes, I sit on my bed,

Dripping wet after a shower,

And just soak in how much I’ll miss you.

You began so bare. 

Those were the moments when I felt alone. 

Back when your walls were empty, and random boxes of paper plates and tablecloths created a maze along the floor.

I was a nomad, solely existing in one place or the other, but never belonging. 

Soon, I began to detest you. Bad memories warped around my head at the sight of those boxes and bare walls. I felt trapped, and for a while I didn’t feel safe.

Several tears later, I realized I had to let go of my hate.

What happened had to become history, and it was time to create a fort out of you.

I bought 100 thumbtacks and the wall-filling journey began. 

And slowly, you felt warmer. 

I stopped feeling alone, and I started to feel at home.

You’ve been there for me all along. 

Your walls have heard and seen it all.
My cries, my pains, my romances, my laughter.

My long naps, my never ending laundry,
My paintings I’d proudly tack to your wall like a child’s report card on a fridge.

You’ve held me all this time. Silently, but surely.

I’ll miss the way the string lights glimmered at night, perfectly framing a calm evening.

I’ll miss the sound of cars rushing by every hour, and peering at the skyline on end instead of studying.

I’ll clean you up one last time just to cement my memory, but you were always my perfect mess.

Thank you for being mine. My cozy sweet home. Thank you for hugging me in dark times. Enveloping me in reassurance and comfort.

Now, I must leave like the nomad who once arrived. 

Hardest Goodbyes,

Niki