You’ve never met your roommate… but live together.
YOU’VE NEVER MET YOUR ROOMMATE… BUT LIVE TOGETHER.
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We’ve all been there, haven’t we? That peculiar dance of cohabitation where your roommate is less a person and more a phantom. You know they exist because their side of the room is occupied, their alarm occasionally bleeds through your REM cycle, or maybe a mystery crumb appears on the desk. Yet, your paths rarely cross. Perhaps it’s the relentless grind, the midnight study sessions at the library, the early morning lab, or that club meeting that stretches into tomorrow. Your schedules are elaborate, finely tuned instruments playing different symphonies, rarely in sync.
You learn to decode the subtle signs: the precise angle of a desk chair, the faint scent of a late-night snack, the bathroom light left on for a moment too long. It's a silent agreement of parallel lives. You coexist, not through shared conversations or movie nights, but through an unspoken understanding of space and time. There's an odd comfort in this anonymity, a strange freedom in knowing someone else inhabits your world without demanding much from it. This unique brand of roommate chaos, or rather, roommate phantom-ness, is almost a badge of honor. It speaks volumes about the dedication and ambition that defines our experience here. It’s part of the absurd, unforgettable tapestry of university life.
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