I was looking forward to living at university. It seemed like I had spent years waiting for this moment. I would be free and alone. I could do whatever I wanted and all within the confines of a warm apartment that I would share with a good friend. This apartment, of course, would be my dormitory and I spent days thinking about it. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an Original Essay I knew my dorm wouldn't be spacious, but it would be nice. I always imagined it as comfortable with plenty of space for all my needs. Surely the beds wouldn't need to be bunk and, of course, I wouldn't have to alternate between storage space for my winter and summer clothes. I could see the room in my mind's eye. The sun streamed in from a large window overlooking a courtyard between dorms where fellow students lounged in the shade of trees. The walls would be a pale yellow shade, friendly and comforting. The hard floor would be covered with a caramel-colored carpet with soft pile that would feel like cushions under my bare feet. A gentle breeze blew at night so that sleep was pleasant in early autumn and spring. My roommate and I would have our own privacy. I could place smiling pictures in shiny silver frames and green scented candles throughout the room without ever encroaching on his personal space. The room would be almost magical. I didn't anticipate having to clean it or worry about the tiny brown pretzel crumbs stuck in my dilapidated second-hand couch. Everything would be new, clean and shiny. In my mind, the sun danced on every object in the room, almost setting it ablaze. Nothing was dark or gloomy. The room symbolized all my hopes for the new year at college. Not only was it a room in which I could sleep, eat and dress. It was the center of my freedom, and it wasn't until I set foot in my new palace that I was cruelly taken away from my dreams. the dormitory, I thought it must be a horrible nightmare. The place was cold and dark. It reeked of melancholy and misery. I imagined countless streams of young people having gone through their university existence in the small room. No sun was playing on the ground. Instead, a dark cloud seemed to rest over all my things. The walls were concrete and had turned off-white over time. The ground was bare and cold. My roommate and I had to stack the black metal beds to have enough space to even walk around. I had to send my soft winter sweaters home with my parents until I could make room for them. The window overlooked a gray, hostile fence. At night we had to install two pale, powerful fans to get enough air to even 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 small, square, off-white concrete block to hang a poster or picture on? It wasn't my dream room. It was a prison cell and I was determined to break free. Keep in mind: this is just a sample. Get a personalized article from our expert writers now. Get a Personalized Essay After two months, the room is neither my dreams nor my nightmares. I've made it a second home as best I can. I smothered it in every shade of lime green I can find. My roommate and I painted it with images of happy people in all the places where melancholy could sprout. We have a rigid carpet on the floor.