Cracks in my ceiling

I was just lying on the floor of my dorm room, listening to music and staring at my ceiling, watching the green light on my fire detector blink and pondering the perfectly symmetrical shape of my large, square florescent light. Ironically, there are no cracks in my ceiling, or at least, not in the area I was staring at - which is a little disappointing actually. Do you ever find that mundane and insignificant thoughts distract you from the real things you should be thinking and figuring? All day today, I'll feel like I'm on the brink of a mental breakthrough and then suddenly, I'm thinking about the sky-high price of Bounty paper towels.Who knew my horrible procrastination problem would transfer to my inner-most thoughts? Stupid.

The end of my freshman year of college is in approximately 10 days. I am basically 1/4 done with my college career. I can not (literally, I can't), comprehend how this year went by so quickly. I feel so old saying things like, "It feels like just yesterday when..." but lets be honest; it feels like just yesterday when I was moving into this very dorm room.

I thought it was so small. I was scared to sleep alone in a building with no one I knew, and my room seemed uncommonly dark, so I slept with a nightlight every night until the battery died. It took me far too long to really "move" into this room, I didn't even put up posters until 2nd semester. I regretted not having a room mate because it meant not having someone to eat dinner with every night, but then I started hearing room mate horror stories and I was immediately glad to have a room all to myself. I've memorized the sound of my refrigerator and I have perfected the art of making a good bag of popcorn in a 700watt microwave.

This room has seen lots of laughter and lots of tears. Dancing and singing, studying and eating. If walls could talk, my room would have quite the story. It has heard far too many secrets and seen far too many embarrassing moments. I have made these 4 cement walls into a semblance of a home, and next year, it will become home to someone else. Maybe a freshman, maybe an upperclassman. A boy or a girl, I don't know. They will plaster the walls with their own pictures and posters and magazine clippings and my underwear drawer will become their sock drawer. Their voice will replace mine and these walls will absorb their secrets, their fears, and their dreams. It's always uncomfortable to feel like you're being replaced, but this time, it doesn't feel so bad.

E246, you have been good to me, and I hope I've been good to you.