The Room Where I write

September 21, 2010
By ChristinaStasia BRONZE, Thomaston, Connecticut
ChristinaStasia BRONZE, Thomaston, Connecticut
1 article 1 photo 0 comments

The two small candles, which were stolen from the kitchen, are hardly illuminating my small bedroom, resting on my slightly cluttered desk. Its apple and spice scents are just merely adding to the room’s coziness, with many pictures surrounding of wonderful past memories. Some of those which are taken of myself with my lifelong best friend, Amy, and others with old classmates from school. It’s all about the memories, and just the things I love. Behind me sits a bed with many, many blankets piled high and twisted within each other, calling out to be made nice and neat. On most days, like today, you could find my cat cuddled in with my mess of blankets on the bed, or even sometimes, right beside me on the desk.
There’s a story within the walls, pictures full of memories, full of paintings, full of all the things I love. It is quite cluttered, but it seems to give the room a little life. On one long shelf above my bed rests my high school diploma, which I am ever so proud of, alongside my graduation cap, and a few pictures from school. Also beside and underneath this shelf, rests two collage picture frames that hold captured moments of wonderful high school moments. Few paintings and posters hang among my walls, expressing my undying love for The Beatles that are just dying to sing the songs they illustrate. Then there is the clock that constantly ticks life away ever so slowly, or sometimes fast, too fast, reminding me what I am here to do. And that reminds me, the one last shelf that holds my most precious belongings, the shelf that holds the photographs and little trinkets that my best friend from middle school had left behind before departing from this world. Three pictures stand still, holding onto what was lost three years ago this month. Its crazy how times change, and how sometimes it doesn’t seem to be that anything is going anywhere fast, although, you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone, or so they say… or so I believe.

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