Walked into the room for the first time freshman year, and saw him standing in the middle of the room screaming at his dad. He was yelling about not wanting to go, and how he blamed his mom for writing his college essay and filling out the application. He kept calling my roommate (I shall name him Eduardo) an “ungrateful piece of shit” and threatening to beat the shit out of him if he tried to leave. It was right after he finished speaking that they realized I was in the room. They both pretended nothing had happened, shook my hand, and introduced themselves. Luckily my parents had not walked in with me so they didn’t have to see that and be worried. Eventually my parents met his as they helped me set up the room, and talked about how proud of us they were. Eduardo’s dad kept saying things like “It’s either college or the street, cause I’m not paying to support a failure.” My parents of course thought he was joking.
Every day this kid told me how much he hated school. He would never go to class, drink in the room all day with the door open (we were a dry campus), scream at everyone, party all night, and generally just be a dick. He used to watch VH1 every night until 4 AM, with the volume cranked up so loud you couldn’t hear. When I asked him to turn it down because I couldn’t hear, he said he would if I wrestled him. Turns out he was serious. He wanted to WRESTLE me, because of me asking him to turn down that Bret Michaels Rock of Love show. I declined and went to bed. The next day he called his mom to come get him, and she agreed and said she was getting in the car. She never came. He LOST HIS SHIT. He broke everything he owned. Punched a hole through his tv, slammed his guitar hero controllers on the ground repeatedly, threw his xbox out the window, cracked his cell phone in half, ripped his bed sheets. He basically totaled his side of the room. I left the room during all this, assuming he was just blowing off steam, and not knowing he was breaking his shit.
I walked back into a fucking war zone, with him standing in the middle of the room crying, drinking laundry detergent, yelling about how he wanted to die, and how he took a whole bottle of advil after he broke his stuff. I ran to get the RA, and he ran and took the broken glass/plastic shards from his computer monitor and started cutting his wrists. The RA and I reentered the room to this kid throwing up detergent and bleeding. Cops called, they feed him charcoal to prevent him from dying due to detergent/pills. (Apparently they do this instead of ipecac syrup) He left that night. Woke me up to say goodbye. Last thing he said to me?