Fun fact: my roommates like to call me out when I least expect it. This being said, I was talking the other day with my roommates and I said the classic Tasha response of “I don’t care. Whatever.” (I know, I’m so deep). But then Emma called me a liar, which was likely not far from the truth. She also said that in her opinion, I’m only pretending that things don’t bother me and that I don’t care. It’s amazing what happens when you live with people day in and day out, they almost begin to know you better than you really know yourself.

The truth is, in the time it took for my best friends back home to realize this about me, we’d lived nearly all of our time together. It shocks me every time when I realize that my NOLA roommates know me. They get that I pretend to not care. They understand that I’m a mess. They don’t judge me for not wearing pants. They like when I laugh really loudly. They accept that I will inevitably have the most dramatic stories. They’ve learned to scale back 90% of what I say because I have the tendancy to over exaggerate. They want me to learn something new. They have little problem calling me on the BS I attempt to put out there. They’re willing to be patient with me. They encourage me to make decisions. They support me even when I make bad decisions. I dare say they love me, whether that’s in spite of or because of my flaws and quirks, I’m not sure.

I just wanted people to know that during my time here in New Orleans, I’m being taken care of. People are here for me, and I’m learning to let them be here for me.

Tasha (middle) & roomies


For more musings from Tasha, check out her blog:


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