Who am I really?

 

        Living alone has its pros and cons. I had never been far from my family or spent a night outside my home. Except for vigils and I was with my family. Leaving for school was going to be a whole new experience for me. Much as I would love to step outside my home and from the constant watch of my mother, the thought of living with people other than my family terrified me. However, I did not look it when my parents dropped me off at the airport. This could be my only chance to learn to survive on my own. In past times, my mum had dictated every step I took, the friends I kept, the places I went, down to the decisions I made. It was hard to form an opinion on my own or take a decision without her. In part, it accounted for my indecisive nature. My Dad took the liberty to lecture me all the time on why I needed to be independent of her. 

       A varsity in another state, new roommates, a monthly allowance, a new phone and laptop, and no family connections around, this was as independent as it got. A mischevious smile crept across my elder sister's face as she recounted the amount of freedom she got. Cindy had ended her survival tips on the note that she was certain I could never go rogue, my mum had successfully gotten into my head or perhaps it was because by nature I preferred to be indoors than outdoors. "You probably won't notice the freedom, you are used to living under a rock," she had said mockingly. I hated it whenever she mentioned that, although it was true. But I would still like to be seen as someone with the tendency to choose another life.

       I was the first person to arrive in the room. RM 6 was written boldly on the door. It was a 4-man room. Two bunk beds were positioned at the opposite sides of the room. A reading table and chairs for four were packed at one end. There were built-in wardrobes on the wall close to the table. The room smelt of dust and emptiness. The beds were labelled corresponding with the wardrobes and chairs. I got B. It was top bunk. I got to work, rearranging things to suit my preference. I changed the position of my bed so it was directly beside the window. Just in case I needed something to feed my eyes and natural air. The window overlooked a busy street. 

       I unpacked my things and settled in. For the next few days my routine was simple. Ate cereals in the morning, talked to my mum on phone, watched movies, and sometimes continued a novel; when it was noon I got junks from the supermarket opposite the hostel. And when it was evening time, I prepared a proper meal. Occasionally I would hear girls scream from other rooms, probably old roommates and friends reuniting. Many times on my way out I tried greeting people, some snubbed me and others replied. I only continued because it felt weird for me to pass people, make eye contact with them and not say anything. My only comfort was the room I had to myself. Sometimes I thought about the other roommates yet to arrive and I wish I could keep the place to myself. 

       The first person to arrive was Simie. I was plugged and the music was really loud, coupled with the fact my back was turned towards the entrance, I did not see her come in. When I finally noticed her, she was sitting on the top bunk of the other bed. She had a certain carefree air about her. She was plugged too. She sat at the tip of the bed swinging her legs to the music she was listening to. I turned my face to the window in a hurry. What do I do? Should I say hello? I would pretend not to have seen her. That won't work. Arrgh! She had to come. I lay on my side contemplating my next step. It is not that difficult, just say hello and get out of the room. Arrgh. Okay, we can do this. Just turn, get out of your bed. Say hello and- my phone rang. I sat up to pick the caller. It was my mum. I worried about how I would carry on after the call. I was half expecting that she would look in my direction after the call ended so I could mutter my greeting or at least nod my head but she did not. I left the room to get my daily dose of junk. It was inevitable, I would be seeing Miss Tutu, my therapist, sooner than I expected.  

       When I got back to the room she was not there. I ate my junks and forced myself to sleep. I woke up a little past one o'clock in the morning. She was fast asleep and entirely unclad on the bed. I averted my eyes. Her mere presence irritated me. I wanted the room to myself a little bit longer. I watched movies till it was six before falling asleep. It had only been a day and I was beginning to feel overwhelmed already.  Miss Tutu.

                                          

 to be continued...