not boys, for once, or lesbians – but roomie love.
my roommate is my other half, like when we were little and chewed halves of gummy bears to make two-flavored ones with different colored heads and feet.
3:30 am on a Monday night, all of our classes the next day, no homework done – who else will stay up with me to read over each other’s oldest emails, all disgustingly useless, all marked as “sent with high importance”
who else will write poetry with me in the looming shadow of Chemistry tests help keep the Spring terms exams and US History APs at bay with jokes that aren’t funny but I laugh at anyways because you are stupid and you think they are –
and everybody in the dorm thinks we are insane, but that’s okay with me because we have
enough inside jokes to live on for a year and each other