Dear Hubbard Hall,
I wish I could be writing this letter under better circumstances. The old cliché is, “It’s not you, it’s me.” I wish I could tell you that was the case, but in reality, it is because of you.
When I first wrote about you, we were simply in the infatuation stage of our relationship. I was young, immature and unaware of what I wanted. I thought what I wanted was the traditional dorm experience, but you quickly made me realize there are better fish in the sea.
I won’t lie to you — distance was a problem. The long walks from work and class every day over the recent weeks have become too much. I thought, as a former long-distance runner, the walks would be a breeze. But as the days got colder, and the assignments got bigger, it has become too much. I know you cannot help where you were built, I don’t blame you for it, but it is something I can no longer deal with.
Despite my own issues, I want to be honest with you and your faults, because I think you deserve the chance to improve upon yourself. First off, who designed you? Not in terms of architecture, but rather the interior. The 11th floor hallway starts off with a light teal, then a puke green, then pink? To say the least, your choice of wardrobe throughout our relationship was highly questionable.
Also, I have never have been on a sketchier elevator ride in my entire life. Every time I got on, I honestly feared for my life. Not just because of the weird creaks and moans your elevators would make or even the crazy amount of people I have seen get stuck inside, but because of the things that would occur inside of them. Walking into a fresh pile of vomit in the corner, Sparty’s chicken tenders scattered across the floor and, for whatever reason, a Supreme sticker stuck to the ceiling, quite honestly made me feel like I might catch a newly-developed plague.
Lastly, the water you provided me with was, frankly, not even usable. I used a water filter at the beginning, but after testing the pH levels with the toll that was provided, I realized that putting that liquid into my body was not a healthy practice.
However, one thing I will miss is your Sparty’s. The ease of access to hot food and my combo that comes with our relationship will be a big loss for me. Also, I will still forever cherish our moments together down in the basement studying. You provided me a comfort level that I’m not sure any other building could have provided better during my freshman year.
Throughout all of this, I do hope that one day we can still be friends. I hope that I can come back and you can make me those delicious chicken tenders that got me through finals. Or maybe I can even head on down to the basement to study, just like the good old days. I hope by then, you clean up the puke in your third elevator and make yourself a better residence hall.
When my friends try to tear you down and make it seem like you meant nothing to me, I will defend you through thick and thin. Not because some of the rumors about you might not be true, but because you will always hold a special place in my heart. You were my training wheels, you made my freshman experience a fun one, and I cannot thank you enough for that. If there is one thing I ask of you Hubb-Nasty, just always remain true to yourself.
Your friend now and always,