Before I turned six, I was an only child. I had my own room and lived a pretty lavish life (in my mind, at least). Toward the end of my fifth year, my mom remarried and I went from being an only child to being a middle child. I think I handled it pretty well, but one thing I didn't react well to was losing my own room. I began sharing a room with my step-sister, who was quite different from me.

Even as a first-grader, it was clear that I was a total introvert. I liked being alone, playing alone, and having my own space. At that age, I felt like my half of the room was enough personal space, so I didn't mind, and I got used to it. After a while, we moved and then I had my own room again.

This was a long, and monumental period that lasted from middle school until I left for college. I grew up and developed my personality and convictions, my preferences and habits. My introversion became even clearer, my inability to cope with sounds got worse, and I became an individual. It was this period where I began to value personal space above almost everything.

Moving out of my parents' house and into a dorm was monumental. I was excited about this independence and to live away from my family and have my own space. It wasn't until I moved in that I realized that moving into the dorm was almost a step backward. My parents didn't really care what I did, I was allowed to leave whenever because I was a boring kid. When I moved into a dorm, my comings and goings were monitored, I had to adhere to rules, and, worst of all, I had absolutely no personal space. I shared my room, which wasn't that big begin with, and I had to adhere to a roommate agreement that had been made at the beginning of the year.

Looking back, I don't know why I bothered. My roommate never bothered to pay attention to it, so I don't know why I did. We both kept our sides clean, at that was about all the respect she offered up. She used all of my stuff, even my toothpaste; stole several pairs of headphones (amongst other things); and was just a general hypocrite, which is one of my least favorite traits a person can have. She would kick any guest I ever had in the room out for reasons unknown to anyone, but if I wanted to go to sleep and she had guests in the room, I'd just have to deal with it because they were busy.

There were clear violations of our agreement, but I couldn't report her to an RA because there were things going on that she could've gotten in actual trouble for. I didn't want her to have issues with the law, but if I wanted to talk to an RA, I would have to, so I suffered in silence and stuck it out.

Now, I'm moving on to the next stage, which is actually living alone. I'll have actual freedom (in theory) and have more control over my sensory surroundings, which is all I can hope for. Maybe someday I'll be able to live with another person, but now I know that sharing your space with another person is not something to really take lightly. There has to be a two-way respect, and it has to be acted upon. At the moment, I have to be okay with living in a small space by myself, and that's what I'll do.