don’t you hate it when you feel like you’ve wasted your day because you’ve been Life Productive™ and Health Productive™ but not School Productive™ or Work Productive™ like why do i feel guilty for spending an hour feeding myself
-you’re writing a paper. you take a short five minute break, you look back at the clock after your break. it’s been four hours.
-you sit down in class and for ten minutes the teacher talks. you glance at the clock. it’s been 39 seconds.
-you set an alarm to wake up at 6:30am. it wakes you up but you shut your eyes for just five more minutes. you wake up. it’s been half an hour.
-you email your teacher to ask for an extension on your paper because you can’t find the rubric. your teachers emails you back, confused. there’s no rubric and there was never a paper assigned.
-you arrive home at 3:30pm and tell yourself to start homework in an hour. an hour passes. the time reads 11pm. you’re fucked.
-you reach into your pencil case and you pull out three pens. you don’t own any pens why are they in there.
-you have a speech to give. later in the day you get a grade back for the speech. you don’t remember giving it.
-you’re writing a paper and you’re almost done. you keep writing for a few hours and you’re almost done. you’ve been almost done for four hours but there’s nothing on your sheet.
Her roommate has moved in by the time she arrives, one side of the room decorated in soft blues and deep gold, as if someone’s pinterest board threw up extra-long twin sheets and a wall tapestry. Books are neatly arranged on the shelf by height and there’s a backpack slung over the back of the standard-issue dorm chair, notebooks stacked precisely on the desk. The girl herself is nowhere to be seen.
Kima already knows she’s going to hate her.
“Well,” says Vord stiffly, looking around the room, from her roommate’s meticulously organized shelves to the three duffle bags sitting in the middle of Kima’s flimsy blue plastic mattress. “Here you are, then.”
“Yeah,” Kima grunts. “Right.”
Vord clears his throat. “I will see you in the summer. Should you, ah, need anything during the year––”
“I’ll figure it out,” she interrupts, ready to be gone of him yesterday, if not earlier.
He opens his mouth for a moment, as if to say something, and thinks better of it. Maybe he can learn, Kima thinks, which is sort of unkind but also not unwarranted. “Yes, well. Goodbye.”
She waits until he’s gone to slump on the shitty blue mattress, bags sliding on the plastic. The half-assed door decorations on the propped-open door proudly present her name and one Allura in crooked cursive.
Allura. What kind of shit name is Allura anyways?
She takes a deep breath. No, c’mon. New experiences. A college education. Time away from the home and its strict rules. It’s a good experience. A good experience.
What’s going on with my biphobic roommate: Explained
So if you guys don’t know I started my freshman year of college (university) about 2 weeks ago. I was assigned a random roommate because I wanted more experience with getting along with others. Some background info to my college: it is a generally very liberal college that support the LGBT community and I chose to live in gender neutral housing that was inclusive to LGBT+ students.
I matched with my roommate over the summer and we seemed to get off generally well. We never had many differences and everything seemed fine. I told her IN JUNE that I was bisexual so that she wouldn’t be freaked out or if she was she would have the opportunity to change roommates. I told her OUT Of COURTESY. Once I told her she assured me that I was fine and that she had been the president of her high school’s GSA. I thought “oh okay that seems fine”
Move in day comes in the end of August, my roommate had moved in a few days before because she came early for some sort of program. I don’t talk to her until 5pm in the afternoon. She gives me a hug and say hi and she walks off. I pretty much have zero interaction with this girl. That night I go to my student lounge to drink tea, this is where shit pops off. I’m sitting there talking to a girl when a guy joins the conversation. We start talking about roommate impressions and he says this “OMG one of my friends roommates is apparently a creepy lesbian” He then goes on to list several very personal facts about me that make it clear that he’s talking about me. I ask “Is this friend ___(insert name of my roommate)” He says yes. Then I say “You’re talking about me, wtf”
It turns out that roommate has been spreading a rumour that I’m a predatory lesbian that’s been hitting on her and trying to get with her over text for months. 1. I never hit on her because she’s straight. 2. I don’t find her attractive 3. we hadn’t really talked about anything other than stuff we needed for the room.
I confront my roommate about these claims the next day and she starts bursting into tears giving an obviously fake ass story about how she would never say such things because she’s also bisexual (????) and she loves the lgbt community. Firstly, being bisexual doesn’t negate homophobia or internalized biphobia. Secondly, the story in her defense was so confusing and obviously fake that it was obvious she had been caught in a lie.
So at this point I had talked to residential life and because there is no “proof” that she said these things I have to move if I want to get away from her. So what I’ve been doing is telling people all around campus what she’s done to me, anyone who will listen because apparently I have to flee a situation instead of the school stepping in.
I’m going to talk to residential life again tomorrow because another person came up to me and asked if I was my roommate’s “creepy lesbian roommate”. Who knows what will happen, probably nothing because I have “no proof”