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I don't want to move out of my dorm room.
Yes, I want to go home, but there's something about this room that I wish I could take with me. Maybe because I have such a nice view--both sunsets and the shimmering city at night--I want to stay. Or because the friends I have on seventh floor are like family.
Next year I will be off-campus again, and while this time I will be ten steps away from the college (as opposed to half a mile my freshman year) I won't have that dorm family feel. Almost thirty people in seventh floor, and every floor below me as well. One huge family. The only place that's felt like home since I left for college two years ago.
I won't miss Aron being noisy in the wee hours of the morning or going to sleep extra early, condemning me to silence; or when the elevator did not work and I had to climb all those stairs. Or the noisy people on the other side of the hall blasting hip hop music at 3:30 in the morning.
I will miss random people coming in and chilling. I will miss pestering my suitemate and pranking my RA. I will miss crashing in others' rooms for a night, or during a break watching movies all night--at least until I fell asleep, everyone else kept watching.
I don't want to move out.