It was a day in late August. A car or two were full of my belongings, and I was a mix between a nervous wreck and pure excitement. After a three hour drive, I finally saw you, just one area out of a four-floor kingdom, my new humble abode, my place to go after leaving the nest: my freshman dorm room. Fast-forward to the present, and our time together is almost up, so I decided to reflect on the past year, and all I can think to say, is... I'm so sorry.

I’m sorry for completely ruining your fresh coat of paint due to my love-hate relationship with command strips. They guarantee to come smoothly off the wall, but this is so not the case. In an over-enthused effort to make you feel like home, I covered almost every wall space with a photo canvas, or tapestry that has more than likely fallen off a few times. So, going along with that, I’m sorry for resorting to push pins once my patience for overpriced command strips ran out.

I’m sorry for all the random stains now on your beautifully patterned carpet, and I’m sorry I wasn’t adult enough to go buy stain remover. Is that nail polish? Coffee? That fruity drink from Friday night? Tears from my never-ending stress? Who knows. Either way, the liquids of my life have officially left their mark. Yes, I tried to clean them, I promise, but carpet cleaner wasn’t the first item on my dorm shopping list; It has always just been something that resides under the kitchen sink back home.

I’m sorry for my bipolar ways of cleaning and organization. Right when I moved in, I treated you like a million bucks—you were my new home. Everything was always in its correct place, and there was never a speck of dust or dirt on any of your furniture. As time ticked on, stress built up and schedules only got busier and I didn’t have the time to focus on keeping you in that immaculate state. Instead of looking like you just came from "Property Brothers," you looked a little more "Hoarders: Buried Alive," and for that, I’m truly sorry.

Yes, I can blame my lack of upkeep on stress and not enough time, but I’m sorry I’m so dang lazy. Honestly, the dumpster is right outside the residence hall, yet I never seem to take out the trash. There are times I could spend—even an hour—tidying up, but there are so many episodes of "The Office" just waiting to be watched. But, at the end of a long day, I always run right back to you for comfort, and even though I don’t take the best care of you, you always welcome me back with an unlocked door and mediocre mattress to rest on.

Out of all the mistreating you’ve gotten from me, there is one apology that’s the hardest. I’m sorry I’ll have to leave you at the end of the year. You welcomed my nervous, irresponsible freshman self, knowing I wouldn’t take the best care of you and made yourself my "home away from home." You gave me a place to go when I wanted to be alone, a place to have heart-to-hearts with my friends, and a place to sleep after a rough night at the quad. So many memories were made with you, my first little taste of adult living, and I’ll never be able to thank you for that. I hope you’ll serve the people after me well, and I really hope my dad doesn’t hate me when we don’t get the deposit back.