Roommate Gone

Yesterday, my roommate went home for summer. I won't see him till next January, possibly not for multiple years, depending on what he decides to do for school. This is weird.

While we were hanging out for the last time, I kept saying to myself beautiful wave, beautiful wave, just let it go. But, that's a lot easier to write about on a semi-anonymous blog than actually put in practice.

I was doing okay all day yesterday, getting ready for my last final, helping my girl move, trying to de-stress. Then, I tried to sleep. That was funny.

For some reason, I have a really hard time sleeping alone. Not alone as in alone in my bed, but alone in my room. In this half-gutted state, my room has lost any essence of home to me. There were nights when my roommate was gone and I slept just fine, but I slept surrounded by his and my stuff. Now... that stuff is all gone. Not that there was anything special about the stuff, but it's like his presence has left.

Before, whenever he would go anywhere, his stuff was a constant reminder that I didn't live alone. That I would never find myself alone in my room, with nothing to do, and no-one to see. No matter how withdrawn or mean or stressed I got, he would eventually be around, even if neither of us had any choice in the matter.

But now, the room is bare. The cinder block walls and the pre-stained carpeting are completely devoid of any character or warmth. Three months from now, somebody will unlock that door and see this room as a blank canvass. But to me, right now, this room is the last muddy pieces of a beautiful wave as it is pulled, at the speed of time, back into the ocean. Leaving behind wet sand and the terrifying expectation of the next wave.