I lived in a shared apartment

I made a lot of sacrifices when I entered college late in my early 20s.

Instead of placing me on campus in a dorm room with a younger student, the school insisted on having me live in a shared apartment instead.

The other tenants of the apartment were older students like myself. I had genuine hope in the beginning that we would all get along, that’s not how things transpired. At first you have something akin to a honeymoon period residing with another person where all the people are on their best behavior and are still trying to please the other person they’re residing with. Then as time goes on, expectations from each party begin to shift and evolve, and hastily you’re no longer on the same page with this woman who you’re sharing residing quarters with on a yearly basis with no end in sight. For me it was strenuous trying to find people who were okay with my cannabis use despite my medical marijuana card in our state. I used ozone spray and an exhalation unit with a carbon filter while pointing it out and opening the window. I know there’s no way that my roommates were away from me smoking weed, but occasionally I’d get snide remarks the next day or ongoing chilly shoulders and passive aggression surrounding my responsible cannabis consumption. Would these people rather live with a drunk? I cannot get over the people who are addicts themselves and then they go and demonize those of us who just want a legal right to shop in a cannabis dispensary without getting robbed or arrested. We have a long way to go at the federal level, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.

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