Sitting on my bed would be much more relaxing if I were alone.

Instead, my roommate Madison is laying down on her own bed that's against the wall opposite mine, and she's yelling loudly into her phone in a conversation with two friends about what she should wear tonight to impress everyone. I awkwardly watch as she throws her clothes all over her side of the room, and looks for the perfect combination.

When she decides on a short denim skirt with a white shirt and a random pair of shoes, she hangs up and starts throwing the rest of her clothes into her closet. I hear her swearing under her breath about how fucking small the closet is in this place, but she seems to realize that I'm here, and she goes quiet. For me, the closet is the same as what I'm used to, but I don't think that she would appreciate my opinion on this subject.

When she finally shuts the drawers next to her bed, a piece of sparkly cloth is sticking out, and I faintly remember explicity writing in my roommate request form that my roommate had to be neat.

I'm used to not getting what I want though.

I think that's been a common theme throughout my life. Yearning for something, and just... never getting it. Or, maybe yearning for someone. I never got to be with them either though.

Madison suddenly interrupts my thought process and kindly asks, "do you want to go hang out with me and some other people?"

I don't even know what to say. We've exchanged very few words in the past week of living together, and I assumed that was how the rest of our year would go. She's being sincere though, and I'm not going to throw away the chance to get to know her better.

"To do what?"

"It's the first big party of the year," she says right away. "Unless you want to commit social suicide, you have to attend!"

I've been to birthday parties where you bring your parents along and eat cheesy food, but I know that's not what this kind of party is. I've heard stories about what happens at college parties, and I don't think that I want to risk anything. Yet, I can somehow hear Delilah's voice in my head, telling me that there have also been so many fun stories about college parties and how exciting they can be. I don't know if that's enough to convince me though.

Madison sharply asks again, "yes or no?"

This time, the evil thought process wins and so I answer, "yes."

She nods, and rushes out of our room with the fancy yet casual set of clothes she had just been picking out. I don't even know what I'm supposed to wear.

I feel like everyone else here has it all figured out. And even if they don't, they can always rely on their access to money to help them out. I don't have the luxury of just ordering whatever new trend exists online and having it instantly arrive at my door. I have to be strategic about everything, wouldn't it be nice if money didn't exist?

When Madison comes back in, she asks me why I'm not getting ready yet, but I don't even know what to say. I'm smart about money, not necessarily about fashion though.

"Fashion troubles?" She asks this time.

I awkwardly nod my head as if admitting to something shameless, and she laughs and starts going through her messy drawers once again.

"We're probably the same size right?"

When she recieves my confirmation, she starts picking through her wardrobe again, and hands me a blue crop top, denim shorts, and a pair of black sandals. When I look at it and notice the small labels of a fancy designer's name, I immediately wonder if this look costs more than my entire wardrobe.

"Thanks!" I start to tell her, but she's already out of the room at that point.

I carefully put on the clothes, trying my best to make sure that nothing ends up torn or stained. When I look at myself in the small mirror above my wooden desk, I decide that I look fine. I brush my hair in the same careful manner, because I know that my wavy brown hair can look bad with even one wrong movement. My hair goes far below my shoulders, and though I've been meaning to cut it for a while, I'd rather wait until I'm back home. My mom usually carries out that task, and I'm not sure I would ever trust anyone else with it. I try my best to make my hair look presentable, and in the end, I think I have.

For the next step, I look at my small set of makeup items on the shelf above my white nightstand, and I apply some on in the best way that I can. I'm not particularly skilled in that area. Not like Delilah was.

I recall Delilah always messing around with her older sister's sets of makeup until she finally got her own. She taught me how to apply the wide variety of cosmetics on, and she liked to help me out. I was never able to get to the level of skill that she was at though, and when I reached a point where I was desperate to learn, she was already gone.

I turn my attention back to my current appearance, and somehow, I do feel like I accomplished something amazing. I even put on my familiar silver locket as an extra touch of comfort and reminder of safety, one that I rarely bring out at all.

It's a picture of Delilah and I back in our hometown, and it makes me feel like less alone. I'm still scared though, despite it, and I don't even know what I'm supposed to expect.

At that second, Madison comes back in our room, looking like a doll in the best way possible. She's clearly great at makeup, unlike me, based on the way she's applied on her light pink eyeshadow without making it appear tacky and has mastered the art of lipstick and lip liner. She's still wearing the same outfit, showing commitment to it, but has added on a necklace with a tiny pink jewel around her neck. She's straightened her blonde hair which ends slightly above her shoulders, and has on some stacked rings that I've always wanted.

She then says to me, "you look nice. Are you ready now?"

For once, I answer, "yes."