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You are lucky to have been spared from the time living in Bexley.

There are many things I dislike about Bexley. For one, the radiators are always completely off when it’s snowing and cold, and full-blast when it’s warm out, so the temperature of my room is rarely comfortable. It’s unfortunate that the knobs on the radiators are merely for show. It’s also unfortunate that each year when the radiators go on, they spew noxious fumes that are “not toxic, just water.” Another dear set of faulty appliances is our washing machines which regularly end their cycle with my clothes sitting in a large pool of gray water. I would perhaps opt to hand-wash my clothing, but my bathtub is somehow incapable of trapping in water, so washing machine it is. This sopping pile of clothes of course takes about nine dry cycles in our dryers, but the machines will only let you run up to seven cycles at a time. While waiting for my clothes to dry, the housewife in me may desire to bake cookies, but I’ve yet to find a cookie sheet for sale that fits in my Fischer-Price oven.

Don’t get me wrong — some of Bexley’s faults are very convenient. I sometimes feel awkward walking past three to four people every morning while I walk-of-shame through their suites in yesterday’s clothes. BUT there’s usually a burnt-out light in at least one of the hallways, so I have the pleasure of being partially obscured in darkness. To be honest though, most of Bexley knows how I look right out of bed regardless because La Verde’s only sets off our fire alarms between the hours of 2 a.m. and 7 a.m., most often just after I’ve fallen asleep.

I could probably go on for a while — the bexment floor is more often sticky than not; there is absolutely no such thing as quiet hours; despite what has been advertised, the walls are absolutely not soundproof; no matter how much I clean the floor of my room, it will always look dirty. You get the idea.

So, you are lucky to not live in Bexley. You are lucky to be spared the grief of being ripped away from the people who make you happiest at MIT, and the disorientation of having a brick, four-story, apparently-structurally-unsound rug pulled out from under you. Earlier this year, in the depths of ill-mental health from MIT-stress, I ended up spending the night in a psychiatric ward, and thereafter started treatment at MIT Mental Health. Depression is really tough, but cereally, Bexley’s community played a major role in my recovery. Even just walking through people’s suites to cross the building, and being genuinely greeted by everyone I pass makes me feel more supported.

The people here are eccentric and loud and crazy and awesome, and it’s hard to imagine that I have to finish my time at MIT without them. I feel like I’m being forced to graduate a year early, saying goodbye to all the people and things that I’m parting ways with — except that I still have to drink from the firehose next year, without anyone else to prop me up. I’m sorry; I don’t really know how to write sentimental shit. But I’m crying, and I’m glad you don’t have to share my pain.

Nicole M. Power is a member of the Class of 2014 and a resident of Bexley.