It's been eight days since one of my college roommates passed away. She was 31 years young with a husband and daughter.
We lived together for two years when I was at Coastal. There were dance parties and tv marathons, wine drinking and decorating the dorm.
We lived together for two years when I was at Coastal. There were dance parties and tv marathons, wine drinking and decorating the dorm.
She was the nicest and sweetest out of all of us and I can't believe she's gone. It was a tough past four years for her as she fought stage four breast cancer. In and out of remission, in and out of the hospital. I followed her journey through facebook, never sure if I should reach out. Was she too busy, too sick, too anything to want to chat. When really it was probably more could I face someone going through this? And I should have. Should have called whenever I was thinking about her, but I didn't. We randomly kept in touch over the years online, birthdays and whenever Save the Last Dance would come on tv.
It's hit me really hard, harder than I should be allowed probably. But someone so young, that I knew, that I once shared a life with. I've been a hot mess since I found out. Lashing out at people who have been nothing but helpful to me throughout this. I'm spinning and trying to figure out how to make it stop.
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