In my second year of University, I had started fresh with new housemates. I had made friends with the one girl and her boyfriend during the previous year. I had never met the 4th person before, but was told that she is really cool, and just has a couple issues. OK, no worries, we all have issues, right? WRONG. Talk about skimming over the details and false fucking “housemate-vertising”. She was a complete mental case, as in certifiably committable! The first thing she said to me was, and I quote:
“Hi. I’m Kayla. I’m on some pretty heavy bi-polar medication that has given me a nasty case of insomnia; I hope I don’t keep you up. Oh, and Wednesday mornings are when I go to my shrink, so I’m usually in a foul mood for the rest of the day. If I were you, I’d stay out of my way on Wednesdays.”
What...the...fuck...? I guess that was my official welcome speech to Crazytown! There were so many weird run-ins with this girl that they all melted into a single puddle of insanity. Surprisingly, the whole “we try to keep chemicals and sharp objects hidden from her” thing, I actually got used to, as warped as that might sound. It was her insomnia that sent me over the edge. The entire night (usually from 11pm to 5am) her television reverberated off the wall that we shared – Wo wuh wa wa wuh wa wuh wa... Sometimes I could kind of make out what she was watching, like the distinctive base-plucks of the Law & Order music, but on the most part, it was that horribly muffled conversational crap. Ear-plugs were useless; it vibrated through the floor as well. It was like my personalized version of Chinese water-drip torture.
After 3 months, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started arguing with the other 2 people in the house as well, but only because I was so damn exhausted. It was affecting my friendships, my school, and my health. I wasn’t going to last the year. We decided it would be best that I switch houses when the semester was up. I knew 2 of the girls that I was going to be living with next, and was looking forward to the change... and the sleep! We were also getting a 4th new person placed with us that none of us knew. During move-in day, she was already seated on the couch when I arrived... in a full cadet’s uniform and spit-shining her boots. I tried to make conversation, “Oh wow, so you’re in Cadets? Do you have training today?”
“Nope, I just loooove wearing it. It’s a constant reminder of the awesome feeling ya like get; like when yer sifting in a 4 foot deep swamp with your arms high in the air, tryin’ to keep yer gun dry!”
She was only 20 fucking years old; does she think she fought in Vietnam or something? It was at that very moment that I knew I was housemate cursed; and that was only the mid-way point. I still had 2 more years after that which totalled no less than a sex phone operator, an O.C.D. cleaner, an anorexic, 2 drug dealers, a nymphomaniac, a Black supremacist, a completely neurotic male and a “cutter” (as in a girl who cut herself to feel pain)! I decided to live by myself after that.
On a side note, Kayla actually did attempt suicide a few months later. She survived, but was in a coma for a few weeks. I know it seems selfish, but I felt SO fortunate it wasn’t me that found her. I didn’t need any more issues, thanks, I was all stocked up.
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