The big goal was to see if by actively seeking and imposing isolation on myself, I could manipulate and master everything I've felt since Freshman Year, which I could then use to improve or inform my art since I feed off of my feelings to operate creatively, like an actor.
My suitemates seemed like nice enough people, but I did everything in my power to maintain that early unfamiliarity, since that would only leave room for isolation's misery and discord to form, if anything.
The golden rule was simple: Don't interact with them (not even visually) unless it's unavoidable. This was a response to how I would drop everything to interact with my Freshman Year suitemates.
My bid to stay emotionally uninvested in my junior year suitemates was a success: I don't know what three of the four(?) look like, and I can't match voices with faces.
In the process of avoiding them, there were some big misunderstandings that erupted over the year, but I chose not to clarify their confusion, letting them speculate all they wanted behind their paper-thin JE walls. They impressed me with some beautifully ugly passive-aggression that helped accomplish the main purpose of my experiment: to manipulate misery.