Evil Twin From College

Sociology makes you seriously reflect upon serious situations- any situation, really- and ask what the purpose is for it. For example, a point of thought might be thinking about those you supposedly “hate” and ask yourself (sociologically speaking) why do you hate them? Is it just because society told you to? Why do you try so much to convince yourself you hate someone? Is it because other people hate them too and you get caught up in the vicious hate cycle?

If you just look at parts of your life, you’ll see that the different parts of sociology show up frequently if not in every part of your life in some capacity, way, shape, or form, as well as the lenses and biases you use without realizing it. I lived in a constant state of, “why is this person doing this, why is this person so hated?” when I met my old roommate in 2014; she's very real, so to protect their identity, I'm changing her name to "Missy". She became a social stigma throughout the college because of her negative deviance from the norm, distrust of the college’s population at large, and lack of proper hygiene, among other factors.

When we first met at the cafeteria, Missy and I clicked right away; it was like we’d known each other for ages; we were in the same internet subculture because we went on Tumblr too much, loved Loki, were pan, were both genderqueer, and we loved Tom Hiddleston too much. I thought something might happen, but didn’t really expect much- I didn’t even consider how society’s gender roles might be skewed if anything happened between us- I just wanted to be friends. I had a fast crush on her and I told her about it the first weekend we hung out, but she didn’t run from me after I said that. Little did I know the feeling was mutual, till she told me out of spite at the end of the school year through a two page letter telling me how she REALLY feels about me. Regardless, one thing lead to another, and we kissed up on top of the hill outside of the St. Francis Dorm when the factory next to the college burned down.

Soon after meeting, we started hanging out constantly- whether it was in her room or in the library, or often times in the cafeteria at meal times. I was her only friend on campus because nobody else gave her the light of day, mostly because she kept everyone else out except for me. Her dorm room smelt BAD- people made fun of her and I stuck up to her many times, but she never changed her bad living habits or personal hygiene issues. I still thought nothing of it; I figured nobody should be trapped by stereotypes just because they happen to smell like something died.

Wait you're not my best friend.....

We were becoming fast friends; within three weeks we’d made several inside jokes, laughed together several times over, and were becoming progressively more “touchy-feely” as the year wore on. We were nigh inseparable for a while- often we would get loud and people couldn't tell if we were laughing or “arguing”; half the time I didn’t know if she was seriously mad or just excited, or if it was just our combined volume.

Missy had strong opinions about several topics, and was a self-proclaimed feminist but was really a Feminazi. Right away, I noticed that often times a simple conversation became a shouting match because she’d attempt to force you to believe what she believed, convinced she was right and thus the person on the receiving end of her ranting ought to feel bad about their beliefs and opinions because they’re wrong. This may be because she was high strung and a keyboard warrior, and was overly paranoid and overly prepared to defend herself against an antagonizing personal attack at the drop of a god damn hat. Because she was so unapproachable, to my knowledge and from my personal observations and those of others, she never worked with anyone and didn’t connect with anyone as much as she did with me.

This rigidity and distrust took me by surprise; she was either super friendly or she hated everyone. She’d barely met me and was already willing to help me because I asked for help. Indeed, when I arrived for my Sophomore year, she helped me move into my dorm where I lived with Trisha; she even helped me organize my possessions, and take care of boxes. Later, she helped me move from that dorm on the top floor to Alana’s room, and soon from Alana’s room to her room, and finally from her room to the room that used to be Tammy’s. I didn’t realize how much fear she held for society at large until I knew her later.

Eventually we moved in with each other in the hallway of Medaille- I only agreed because it seemed like a harmless idea, and because she was excited about it. I thought that once I moved in, our dorm would cease to smell like a dying hobo, but I was wrong. For the duration of her enrollment at the College of Saint Joseph, her dorm room smelt horrible. Everybody agreed, and all other students in the hall made fun of her. I couldn’t stand this stigma of bullying, so I tried to report it to the Dean of Students, but nothing was done to stop it from happening! I was incensed!

She had really bad personal hygiene, and over time I realized it wasn’t just people making fun of her or being mean; the sad fact was-I became convinced-she truly didn’t know how to compose herself, or carry herself in social situations. Several times, she’d go braless, wear tight-fitting clothes, lack deodorant, and forget to brush her teeth. She even neglected to shower for three to five days at a time, and would wallow in her bodily fluids for days at a time, creating an odor of disgusting “holy-crap-what-is-that”ness that spurred other students to leave her alone and avoid contact with her. Because of her ignorance unawareness and over-sensitivity, this led her to become an even bigger “whistle-blower”. She had poor coping skills, and wasn’t very self-sufficient; she’d blow everything out of proportion if given the opportunity, and I quickly realized she was everything I never wanted to be; I wanted to apologize to society and anyone I knew if they ever saw me act even remotely like Missy ; several times I asked “Was I ever that bad?” “I’m sorry if I was ever that bad.” “Was I ever as annoying as Missy?” “I’m not as bad as her, am I?”

I know how unbelievable the next part sounds, but I promise you it happened this way. When I thought we could smooth things over, and I realized how upset I was going to be when she left the college, I was thinking about how I could attempt to start over with her when she was gone, if at all. That day, I was exhausted, my glasses had broken, I had so much to pack before I went home that it wasn’t fair, and I’d just finished a final for Dr. Prida wearing my old beaten up, scratched-up prescription glasses that barely worked and hurt my eyes. I heard a knock on the door, watched a letter get slid beneath my door, and saw a text from Missy on my phone.

It read, “I left you a letter under your door- you should read it ASAP”. I didn’t expect anything- in fact I didn’t know what to expect at all, so I heaved myself off my bed, picked it up, and read the letter. I wasn’t expecting it to contain all the reasons why she believed me to be a horrible person, but there it was. As I’ve said before, it was two pages containing all the reasons why Missy hated me and found me irritating and irrational, claiming I ruined her school year, among other slander, topping it off by calling me a mysoginist, psychopath, sociopath, schizophrenic with anxiety. I didn’t know what would make them think this; I fit none of these stereotypes at all; and those who knew me then and those who know me now often tell me,

“I’m too nice.”

I thought this was a reflection of how they felt about themselves, and didn’t want to talk about it or think about it- I was extremely tired- and I didn’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know if I read it all the way through; at that time of year I probably skimmed it to see if10 it was from the RAs and couldn’t put it down before I realized it was hate mail.

What happened next showed me how many people on campus care about me, and how big my network of friends on campus actually was and is to this day. Shocked and simply stunned, I addressed it on Facebook in a post, wherein I included how I was in no mood or state to deal with this unwarranted blow to my self-esteem after a grueling final. A good friend, Samantha Perry saw it online, and immediately got worried like a good friend would. She told her roommate Desiree, one of my best friends about the status and voiced her concern, and sent her over to check on me. I let her in, of course, and she demanded to see the letter.

She grew more enraged as she finished reading the letter, and congratulated me for keeping it together after getting such rude hate; she expected me to be crying or angry after receiving it; I was just numb, tired, and done with the whole thing. She got me to go express the disgust disbelief, and other feelings of shock and grief inspired by it; Allison helped me work through my feelings. She read the letter out loud, and all three of us were very upset by the letter and couldn’t believe why anyone would write this to anyone, when you could go confront them in person and get it over with; Desiree and Allison were angry, revolted, and any other synonym for pissed off, whereas I was severely confused, depressed, and every word for “not good” or “defeated” could describe me perfectly.

Alison looked at me and back at Desiree, and back at the hate mail. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, wherein Ali looked over the letter as she grew more pissed with every passing second, she finally said,

“I’m talking to her, I don’t give a shit. You don’t do this to people. Jasmine’s the nicest person ever, you don’t attack her like this after you set yourself up to be antagonized all year? Hell no. Come on.”

Tears were streaming down my face at this point, and Ali banged on Missy’s door with a vengeance. The whole entire time the fight with Missy took place, I was in disbelief that it was actually happening. I didn’t want anything to happen, I didn’t want any fights to break out, specifically because of me; but low and behold there was one breaking out

before my eyes. As soon as they opened the door, Desiree and Ali reprimanded them for such cowardice and unbelievable behavior. Desiree got into her face and brandished the letter at her, flanked by Ali.

“You think writing this is this is okay!? After everything you’ve done this year?!?” Desiree snapped. Ali was also enraged by such unwarranted behavior.

“She ruined my entire year!” Missy retorted, trying and failing to defend herself; several times I recall them saying “if you’d read the letter…”, which instigated even more anger from Desiree. I was trying my hardest not to breakdown; I remember shaking like a leaf.

And the more she yelled at me, the more I was losing it; Tammy was down the hall, along with other bystanders. Missy couldn’t help herself; she simply wouldn’t stop instigating Desiree.

“I’ll fuck you up right now.”

“Do it, I’ll call the cops.” Missy replied, coolly.

“I don’t give a shit. I’m serious,” snarled Desiree

“I Don’t care, try me.” Barked Missy.

Before I knew what was happening, Desiree shoved Missy against roughly and angrily back into her room; all present heard and witnessed her fall backward and a large crash she crashed into her refrigerator and caused it to topple.

I’d been crying uncontrollably for what seemed like forever at this point, and Tamara was holding me as I wept. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do at that time; thankfully Jonathan, an RA came and broke up the fight. He and approximately twelve other people escorted me out of my dorm room to the picnic benches to diffuse the situation. I just wanted to know why this was happening;

those assembled to keep an eye on me agreed; I was told by multiple people I was the nicest person on campus, so why would anyone do this? The amount of support that followed this horrible moment showed me how many friends I really had.

The campus Res Life Staff that night did their best to keep the two of us separated and out of sight of one another; I was terrified there’d be another incident like the first one if I ran into each other. Thankfully it worked. I learned that they called their mom (typical) and that was when I asked myself what kind of parent backs their kid up in a situation like this, wherein they are the instigators behind it? I watched her leave and wanted to be nowhere near her when she moved out. Even though I saw her leave in her parent’s car for the last time, I still felt scared that she was going to come back. I felt like she was still in the dorms because of all of the horrible pent up negativity from the incident which drastically changed the symbolic interactions between myself and the hallway of Medaille.

I didn’t realize how much she’d affected me until after the car crash I had on June 8th the following year, and I was paranoid that she was going to come out of a corner and stab me again, or hurt me physically.

That was 2014. The accident was 2015, and in 2018, I graduated from college. I made it out of that college with my dignity and maturity.

If I never see Missy again, it will be too soon.