Roommate who always brings their situationship over.

Remember those cramped dorm rooms? They were more than just a place to sleep; they were our first taste of independence, our study sanctuary, and often, our social hub. We navigated the relentless academic rigor, the late-night intellectual debates, and the unique camaraderie forged under pressure. But then there was that particular roommate dynamic that added an unexpected layer of complexity: the roommate whose "situationship" became a permanent fixture in your shared, already tiny world.

It wasn't a committed relationship, just that undefined entanglement that always seemed to be present. You'd come back from a grueling lecture or an all-nighter in the library, desperately craving personal space, only to find your room already occupied by a stranger, whispering or arguing, constantly shifting the emotional landscape of your designated sanctuary. Your desk became a silent witness to their undefined drama, your futon a stage for their on-again, off-again saga. Privacy became a luxury, quiet contemplation a distant dream. It was a masterclass in awkward encounters and forced politeness. We learned to be invisible, to study in common rooms, or to simply embrace the chaos. This peculiar brand of dorm life taught us invaluable lessons in boundary setting, adaptability, and sometimes, just how to escape to the library for longer stretches. It's a shared memory, a unique rite of passage that makes us all nod knowingly, whether we are still navigating those halls or looking back with a mix of humor and disbelief.