On my first magical, free-wheeling day of Freshman year, I threw up in a moving van.

I often discuss my anxiety, and how it makes situations that can potentially be so easy (like meeting new people, for example) and turn them into mini disasters. My first day of college was no exception. I had such a bad anxiety attack on the drive up to school that I worked myself up into throwing up the few pretzels I had in my system into a plastic shopping bag. I was intent on not enjoying myself at all; I was going to keep my head down and do my work until the semester was over, where I would transfer to a local community college and stay in the safety of my own room at home, with my dog and my own space.

Fortunately for me, the basic human need of socialization got in the way.

You, my beautiful hall mates, you got in my way.

If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have known the feeling that people get when they find deep, profound connection; when they find people that stay with them forever, who don't fade away after a few years. Whether or not we liked one another or not (and there were a few), there was still a semblance of community.

Our dorm layout practically forced us to see one another nearly every day: in the hallway, in the elevator, in the communal study. If we didn't like each other, we had to get our act together and learn to get along, because it was impossible to avoid each other. That, fortunately, wasn't a problem. To my knowledge, no one disliked each other so much to where our RAs had to sit them down and talk out their feelings. If they did, they never showed it.

That's not to say our hall was perfect, though. We were "grounded" from the study and its furniture several times, resorting to sitting in the empty lobby in an attempt to be anywhere but our rooms. There was the incident in April with a pair of particular residents (if you were there when it happened you know exactly who I mean and what happened). We were too loud and too gossipy and violated quiet hours more times than I think our RA's thought was necessary. But it was fun. We were a family.

I don't know what kind of person I would be if it weren't for the midnight trips to Walmart, or the spontaneous adventures to other states just because we want to enjoy the weather. If it wasn't for you guys my life would be so boring. I would be doing work and counting down to the next break. A huge part of who I am is because you precious few, who pushed me out of my comfort zone for the sake of myself, and for that I thank you.

We're all separated now. We have other friends, we live in other dorms. However, that doesn't disregard the bond that we all shared. We all suffered through that terrible freshman year when there was no air, and the heat broke just as it was about to be turned off, and the cops turned up on our hall at least once a month. We were struggling to do homework for classes we for sure felt we would never pass. Our experience wasn't unique to the college experience, but it was unique to us. I wouldn't trade our hall for the world. I hope that whoever lives on our hall, who sleeps in our rooms and sits in our "usual" study chairs have as close of a bond as we did. As we do.

The last month of 2016 and the first month of 2017 has been about reflecting for me. Trying to find my Best Self. I owe part of that Self and the discovery of that Self to the people of Walker Hall, on the eighth floor. You guys rock my world.