Sorry to hear this, we all make some mistakes.
Highlights: the communal five-seater sofa has such a weird ingrained filth to it that you get a mild-to-medium bacterial infection from sitting on it one time; the time the police wake you all up with guns; nobody has any real idea how a lock works or what a lock is for; you have the biggest room in the structure but you don't have any windows and everyone has to walk through your room to get to the bathroom; You Have Come Home On A Tuesday To A Party; the time that guy no one knew the name of OD'd in your kitchen; We Gave The Rats Names; the shower is in a separate block and it’s a sort of eight-berth thing like you used to have to use when you were in secondary school PE and you keep seeing the same guy there (enormous thin dick, similarly huge thigh tattoo, the ominous energy of someone who doesn't sleep) lathering himself even though he doesn't seem to live with you or with any of the adjacent warehouses; The Council Has Plans To Destroy You; at least one of your housemates is an artist and they keep talking about art and artistry; everyone insists that you are part of "a collective", which as best you can tell means nobody has to apologise if they eat the nice hummus you get from the fancy Whole Foods shop; every single decoration was found outside on the street; You Have Come Home On A Wednesday To A Party; You Have Woken Up On A Monday To A Party; your rent is less than £300 but you're really starting to wonder if it's worth it; one of your friends has to gently inform you that, without you really noticing it, you now always smell of smoke; One Day They All Do Facepainting.
You last six months before you move to a real flat, and the experience of sitting on a sofa – in silence! Without anyone spilling a bag of your own porridge oats all over you! – is so alien as to be shocking. You cry! You actually weep and cry!
YOU HAVE RAPIDLY LOST THEN WON AT RENTING. YOU LATER READ ABOUT YOUR LANDLORD IN THE LOCAL PAPER.