This is the fifth 9 AM lecture I’ve missed in a row. Should you be worried? Is this another one of those depression induced lay-ins? Or is it just another late night of listening to indie rock and playing Cards Against Humanity? You saw me last night, I seemed to be alright, my smiles were genuine, my laughter not forced. So you go for class, deciding to worry only if there’s a more concrete sign of me hitting a downward spiral.
After our first year living together, we decide to continue with the bed assignments we were given. You were A, I was C and our lovely little child of a roommate was B. We love B regardless. Regardless of her mood swings when it’s exam season, regardless of her constantly smelling of coconut oil (Mallus, I tell you) and regardless of the crazy dance parties she has all by herself.
A, B and C. We’re closer than you or I could have ever imagined. This random room allotment makes me believe in the idea of fate, the idea that the universe does plan some things out. There’s a bigger picture, but at the corner of the bigger picture if you zoom in enough you see the three of us, standing shoulder to shoulder. Almost touching, but not quite because none of us are physically affectionate.
No, our idea of affection is asking if you’ve eaten and if you haven’t I’m going to make you a sandwich anyway. Our idea of affection is to fill all our water bottles from the water cooler when one of us goes. Our idea of affection is to save a bite of that Chilli Paneer roll we all like. To call from the convenience store and say, “Hey, there’s Orange Lays, d'you want 7 packets or 10?” Our idea is to just look across from Bed A or B or C. That one look is enough to assure me that if there’s anything that’s gone wrong, I can climb up to your bed (still got bunk beds, unfortunately enough) and just sit next to you.
I live miles away from home. I’ve got so much to miss from back home, movie nights with my father, baking with my mother and good ol’ fighting with my brother. I should miss home so much. I should miss it every second, every day. But I don’t, because I have home right here. No, it isn’t my posters that make it home or even all the cookies my mum’s sent. It’s
you, my dear A and B. It’s you, with our movie nights and our Maggi experiments and our fighting. I could call you my sisters but that’s not quite it. I could call you my best friends, but that’s not quite it, either. You’re my roommates, because to me roommates holds more significance, a different kind of significance, than I could ever have imagined.
So no, don’t worry about me. Because I have you and as long as I have you, I’ll be fine.
We’ll be fine.