Living in a Zoo

One of the major changes for me this year has been living accommodation. I moved from the condemned tower block that I used to live in into a shiny new ground floor flat slightly further away. Leather sofas, en-suite rooms, all around 90 pounds a week.

Very swish, you might say.

Shame about my flat-mates.

I live with 5 other people, one of which I was with last year, who was very nice and was probably quite a good friend to me. Two of them are fairly normal people, considerate and quiet. The other two however, are the flatmates from hell. One of them in particular, a fat, fake tanned, heavily made-up, self-important specimin called Hannah (or Hannorrr to her friends) has succeeded in making mine and the other two normal people's lives hell over the past 6 months.

She plays her music too loud at night, she screams through the walls at her friends, she throws house parties without asking anyone else if it's ok and then doesn't clean up. She even bullies the other normal people by opening her door and playing music in their direction, dumping rubbish outside their door and writing threatening messages to them. She doesn't do those things to me, though, possibly because I don't figure enough in the flat community for her to bother with. I always get the brunt of her loud music and screaming, though, because I'm in the room next to her.She blames mess in the kitchen on us 3 normal people, when I suspect she's responsible for it. In contrast, though, her room is spotless.

Her friend follows her around like a puppy, buying all her food for her, driving her everywhere and doing whatever else she wants. When those two get together, it sounds like the monkey enclosure at London Zoo. My flatmate from last year has also become her bitch, because he doesn't do anything for himself anymore - he has almost no substance to him whatsoever now, and doesn't stick up for me or even hang around with me anymore. What a let-down.

We've probably lost our deposit on the place, and are probably going to be charged well over that for the damage that the house parties have caused to various things in the kitchen/living room. It seems every time there is one, something gets wrecked and then hurriedly replaced or just left broken.

I personally have never attended a single one of these parties, because a: piss-ups bore me to tears, and b: I'm frankly scared to, and feel like I'm not invited (even though it's my flat too). Every time a party happens, I run and hide at my boyfriends for the night and return to see the carnage the next morning.

Now I know I'm not a typical student, as I said before. I don't like wild parties or the student lifestyle - I'd rather be tucked up in bed with my Xbox or snuggled up on the sofa watching a film with my boyfriend. I live a quiet existence. I know, however, that this behavior that I dread coming back to the flat for, isn't normal either. It's downright antisocial.

I'd love to be able to complain to my accommodation, say that it's all those 3 who trash the place and that it's driving me to depression living with them and I want them kicked out, but that would probably the last thing I ever did. Hannah is unfortunately the kind of girl who would probably make my life even worse if I did something she didn't like. She'd probably sit on me.

Instead, I know I'm condemned to stay here for 4 more months, locked in my room between seeing people and going to classes. I feel like I'm living in a zoo.

On the upside, though, I've found somewhere nice and quiet to live next year, with someone who is just as quiet and normal as me. Also, I'm always guaranteed a flight home to see my parents, and always welcome to stay at my lovely boyfriend's house on weekends.

There is a happy ending to this story :)