Sometimes it haunts me. It certainly wasn't my only institutional experience, nor was it, by most tangible measures, the worst.

I dreamed about my roommates again last night. I dreamed about the three other people who stood beside me. We dug our ditches together, we washed dishes together, we sat up late at night having silent parties. Putting on headphones and dancing silently in the dark. We would sneak behind the science building for a cigarette in the middle of the night. We would turn all the shower heads on hot and sit in the middle in lawn chairs, reading aloud to each other and revelling in a dip of Kodiak. We always had our eyes and ears focused on a glimpse of the Sergeant Major. We relayed our intelligence flawlessly. We always knew where he was, and he appreciated that. One by one we were eliminated from the student population. I was the first to go, and then the third. Seneca was the first to leave without an ambulance, followed by my break-in to the office to retrieve my car keys and speed away forever. Richard ended up back in Bermuda after a run-in with the girls' dorm RA. Nick ended up in the Army. They were my only allies on antagonist hill. We watched each other lose our last grips of sanity. We watched each other's self-will engorge and lash out. We resisted. And once we finally escaped, never fucking looked back.

Now I get to choose when to take a shit. I take my cigarette breaks at my leisure. I don't tuck in my shirt either, but I'm always looking over my shoulder for a Sergeant Major.