Living with a Dog vs. Living with Roommates – College Version 😜 from an Introvert 🤐

So there are things about being an introvert and socially awkward and shy all at the same time that makes it hard to talk with people. At least for me, it does.

In my first year of college, my dog lived with me, but because of financial reasons, I changed apartments and decided not to take my dog with me because I wasn’t sure if my roommates would approve.

I didn’t realize how much of an socially awkward, shy introvert I was until I moved in with roommates. We had separate rooms and separate bathrooms – which is a great relief to me – but we shared the kitchen and living room.

And it was a mess and is currently getting messier. Dishes litter the sink and counters. Full trash bags line the wall. The doors for the washer and dryer are wide open and in my way whenever I get in/out of my room.

I realize now that even though I’m free from taking my dog out every few hours and walking him every day, I’m still somewhat distracted and want to get out of my apartment with every chance I get. I’ve driven in the dark – a horror for me – late when the sun has already set to go take a 30-minute and sometimes hour drive home to my parents, sister, grandparents, and dogs.

I thought I wouldn’t start craving social interaction since I had roommates.

But they don’t speak to me unless we’re passing by. In fact, on the day I moved in (they were already moved in months before me), all three (yes, three) of them were gone despite the memo on the table in the living room saying I was coming on that day. Okay. Maybe one of them was there. But she didn’t even respond to when I was asking if someone was at the apartment while I wandered around the living room and kitchen like a lost child.

They barely left any space for me in the kitchen cabinets and any cabinet, really. The fridge smelled. The sink smelled. My sister, who came in to help me with the move-in later on, was so disgusted with the fridge that she refused to open it to put my drink inside because she feared she would vomit without knowing where the trash can is.

I realize now that I miss my dog. And my comfortable privacy when I lived alone – not these awkward encounters with my roommates every now and then when I go to the kitchen or head out for school.

I was able to talk to my dog, hug my dog, walk with my dog, play with my dog, be comforted by my dog whenever I had bad school days – and I can’t technically do any of these things with my roommates, especially since I don’t even see any of them a lot. We don’t even eat together or even have a basic talk about taking out the trash or washing the dishes or when to do laundry.

But of course, it’s not always bad living with roommates.

To be honest, I preferred my roommates I had during a summer program at a different university while I was still in high school. We talked together, ate snacks together, and even danced in front of the restroom mirror we shared.

So, I guess, it all depends on the living situation and the roommates you get, but if you’re as shy and socially awkward as I am, you’ll probably have a hard time just communicating with your roommates. I didn’t start dancing with my roommates from that summer program until I lived with them for eight days (out of the nine we were staying there).



I’d be always alone, limited by my concept of love,

And I’ll end up childless or adopting late in life

as I focus on my life and become consumed by my job,

which I should be good at.


I’d want a big house to compensate for loneliness.

Apartment hunting (or forced to stay at my parents’).

With a malnourished yard and a pet craving for attention.

And I would tell others I am happy.


I’d get take-out food or starve myself.

And always alone, I’d stare at my plate.

I’d constantly visit others for food.

Food would be a surplus, but my heart would be empty.


I’d have a car, money, and a child.

Life would be satisfactory.

I’d force a smile on my face.

And it would be okay.


Because of everything I’d have.

Because of friends and family.

Because everyone can dream.

So ideally



I’d be married to someone I love.

And I’d have a kid or maybe two

as I juggle my life and my job,

which I should be good at and happy with.


I’d have a house big enough for family.

A house I paid for myself, not my parents.

With a nice yard for a pet or two or three.

And I would be settled and happy.


I’d get good food and a spouse that can cook.

And together as family, we’d eat together.

We’d eat with more family sometimes.

Food would be ample, and all would be merry.


I’d have a card, money, and family.

Life would be fulfilling.

I’d have a smile on my face.

And it would be great.


Because of everything I’d have.

Because of friends and family.

Because everyone can dream.

But realistically

Empty Mirror

The world spins as I stand in complete darkness, the ground vibrating with each passing second. An oval mirror from my far left suddenly zooms to me, forcing me to look at myself.

Except I’m not there.

I place my hand on the glass mirror – blank and pure dark – until another hand from the other side of the glass holds mine.

A deathly cold hand.

That looks like my own. And I’m scared if I go closer, there’ll be some woman on the other side that appears, empty look in her face, devoid of life in her eyes – an empty shell. But I know this is true.

Because I am my own ghost who can no longer recognize myself.

Ultimate Fear

What scares me? Ha…

If we’re talking normal, everyday things, then social situations, eyedrops, etc. If we’re digging deeper, then my future. But if we’re saying my ultimate fear…

It’s forgetting.

Forgetting myself. My memories. My life. My everything.

And forgetting my stories. My characters.

The personalities, histories, dramas, worlds, and people I created.

I fear.

And that is why I write.

20 Random Facts About Me

  1. I’m violent and scary on the inside and outside if you annoy me enough (wow, what a way to start the list).
  2. It actually takes quite a lot to make me angry.
  3. It takes me even longer to act on anger.
  4. I usually volunteer myself in undesirable things (e.g. first shot [it was a hospital thing], first practical exam, first presentation in class) to get it over with though people thing I’m just amazing.
  5. I’m addicted to I like anime.
  6. I like Hetalia so much it deserves another number.
  7. I know some Spanish, some Tagalog, some Italian, and more but am not fluent in any other language but English.
  8. I’m Filipino, born in the USA.
  9. I studied CPR in eighth grade while my dad was a CPR instructor.
  10. I shocked my class in my typing skills (20 WPM to 75 WPM after a week) but didn’t tell them it was from texting (I was eleven, and people usually got phones at 16 or so at the time).
  11. I once had hair below my hip.
  12. I once had hair up to the top of my ear – no, I didn’t want it that short.
  13. I couldn’t believe the most popular guy in my middle school liked me and accepted it too late when he already moved on.
  14. I prank-called a guy with my best friend at 2 AM. He called back. My friend’s mom picked up.
  15. I have been a Microsoft Office Specialist (MOS) in Microsoft Office 2010 products… since eighth grade.
  16. I became certified in CPR my junior year of high school… I still have to renew that.
  17. My family has a history of diabetes, hypertension, and all that good stuff.
  18. I want to be a cardiologist.
  19. I live in one of the top 5 most obese areas in the United States.
  20. I have little to no social skills.

So, I haven’t been posting in a long time, and I’m sorry. 😣 I’ve just had so much to do for a few weeks now. Like learning to drive in a new city, learning to live by myself, learning to take care of a living being (my dog ❤️️), learning to take care of a plant (and I haven’t been doing well on that one), learning to time manage, and learning to just… adult. And go to college with good grades to maintain my scholarship (yeah, I need help in this one).

But, here it is! I posted something! Continue reading

My Second Year On WordPress!

So it’s been a while since I posted, but for some reason, I decided to check up on this and actually post something. I saw a notification and realized… I registered two years ago on WordPress ON THIS DAY.

I mean, it was completely coincidental. Two years ago, I was bored. Two years later in the present, I was… bored.

I don’t really know what happened on my “one-year anniversary” with WordPress, but… here I am.

Over the two years here, I’ve posted a bunch of stuff. Yes, stuff – a bunch of quite extremely random stuff. So hopefully, I end up putting more stuff. Much more random stuff. 😜

Thank you so much to the people who read my posts, which can either be pretty short or super long. 😁


Love is a weird thing.

To love and to be loved are both different things tied only by name.

To love is throwing yourself at another’s feet, giving up yourself completely, trusting that person to handle you well. To love is sacrificing everything for that person. It is to dedicate yourself to that person so much that everything you do is for them, for that one special person, because all your world becomes that one person.

To be loved is to trust completely in another so that the heart can open and accept love. To be loved is accepting someone and also removing the mask you hide behind, revealing yourself to someone. It is to receive and accept the love given to you by that one special person who means the world to you.

Love requires both of these things of either person in a relationship.

Unfortunately, I do not know how to be loved.