I couldn't wait to live in college. It seemed like I had spent years waiting for this moment. I would be free and on my own. I could do whatever I wanted and all within the confines of a cozy apartment that I would share with a good friend. This apartment, of course, would be my dorm and I spent days thinking about it. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay I knew my dorm room wouldn't be spacious, but it was okay. I imagined it still comfortable with plenty of room for all my needs. The beds definitely shouldn't have been bunk beds and I obviously shouldn't have had to alternate closet space for my winter and summer clothes. I could see the room in my mind. The sun streamed in through a large window that overlooked a courtyard between the dormitories where other students rested in the shade of the trees. The walls would be a soft yellow shade, friendly and comforting. The hard floor would be covered with a caramel-colored carpet with soft bristles that would feel like cushions under my bare feet. A light breeze blew at night so that sleep was pleasant in early autumn and spring. My roommate and I would have our privacy. I could have placed smiling photos in shiny silver frames and scented green candles throughout the room without ever intruding on her personal space. The room would be almost magical. I didn't imagine having to clean it or worrying about tiny brown pretzel crumbs getting trapped in my dilapidated hand-me-down couch. Everything would be new, clean and shiny. In my mind, the sun danced on every single object in the room almost setting it on fire. Nothing was black or sad. The room symbolized all my hopes for the new year in college. It wasn't just a room to sleep, eat and dress in. It was the center of my freedom, and only when I stepped foot into my new palace was I cruelly removed from my dreams. in the dorm, I thought it must be a horrible nightmare. The place was cold and dark. It smelled of melancholy and misery. I imagined countless streams of young people who had gone through their university existence inside that small room. No sun played on the ground. Instead, a black cloud seemed to hang over all my belongings. The walls were made of concrete and had become dirty white over time. The floor was bare and cold. My roommate and I had to make the beds black metal to even have enough room to walk. I had to send my soft winter sweaters home with my parents until I could make room for them. The window looked out onto a grey, hostile and heavy fence. At night we had to install two pale and powerful fans to even have enough air to breathe. Where had the pleasant breeze gone? Where was the sun that was supposed to shine on me at all times? Why did my roommate and I have to fight over a tiny square block of off-white concrete wall to hang a poster or photo on? This was not my dream room. This was a prison cell and I was determined to get rid of it. Please note: this is just an example. Get a custom paper from our expert writers now. Get a custom essay After two months, the room is not the one of my dreams or nightmares. I made it a second home in the best way possible. I smothered it in every shade of lime green I can find. My roommate and I painted it with images of happy people at every point where a memory of melancholy might arise. On the floor.