A room-mate!

Well how difficult is it to live with one? I got my first room-mate along with college and with her came so many new experiences... above all came this feeling of oneness. The reason why I write this today is because I’m missing her. She wasn't the best one could ask for, but I must have done something to deserve her in my life. Isn’t that the case with everyone we meet?

We shared a kind of love that kept you safe, no reader, we are not lesbians! The one that you know is just there...  other feelings existed too. Fear. dissappointment. rage. But we just existed, friends they say, lingering stickily on what they touch. But in my view friendship can be rarer than love.

we knew each other in our dailiness. The rush of the boiling milk, the fuss over who heats the food, the heap of tangled laundry in the red bag, the leaving of bottles opened.

She didn't ask me to take care of her, because she already knew that. She managed pretty well and taught me a lot all along... I remember her teaching me how to identify which key fits which lock by looking at it… teaching me the value of so much with each passing fight. I know we fought a lot. *sigh* but I have evolved into a better person. I owe it to you.

"Make me proud", she said. (Someday, I promise you I will.)

We were family. We weren't born into it, or adopted into it, but we made it together like a nest from what everyone else considers rubbish.

We shared our shopping, our bills, our colds, our friends and our festivals.