Lost and Found This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category.

I liked being a mess. The desk that should have been clear so I could do my homework was always besieged with bowls of cereal and spoiled milk, old magazines, and Post-it notes I had forgotten to remember. My floor was a vacuum in itself, eating anything entering my room. It consumed sweaters, stuffed animals, socks, shoes. When I occasionally did laundry, I would dig up clothes I couldn't even recall purchasing. My shelves overflowed with containers of little odds and ends: hair bands, chapstick, matches, loose mints, coins, earring backings. I couldn't always see these things, but I knew that they were safe, nestled somewhere on a shelf. Like old friends in a phone book, I figured that someday I would find all the loose strings and tie them together.

One lonely day in August when all of my friends had yet to return from camp in Maine, visiting family in Florida, or some community-service trip in Mexico, something inside me began to itch. I tried taking a shower, scrubbing myself with every bodywash and bar of soap I could find. I brushed my hair and my teeth, but didn't feel any cleaner. I checked my e-mail, which was empty. I checked the DVR to see if any new shows had been recorded, but I had already seen everything.

I went downstairs and found my brother playing video games, my mom on the phone, and my dad in his office – everyone in their right place. I told my mom that something didn't feel right, and she suggested that for once I should clean my room. The thought itself made me nauseous. I went upstairs to sulk, feeling so overwhelmed that I might as well have been floundering without a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

When I opened the door to my bedroom, everything was in its usual cluttered arrangement. A plate of half-eaten pancakes sat on my desk, soggy with syrup from the morning. My bikini hung lifelessly from my doorknob, dripping pool water. My heavy covers lay crumpled and cold across my bed, molded by the twists and turns of the previous night. Piles of dirty clothes sat unsorted, collecting dust.

I stood in the middle of the cluttered room, breathing in the filthy air that I had become so used to. In the silence of that moment, I began to hear the clock ticking. I became aware of the moldy smell. I noticed that a spider had spun a shimmering line from my lamp to the top of my mirror. I shivered in disgust. I remembered that winter how my stuffed animal, Vanilla, had fallen behind my dresser and I hadn't noticed until I caught the repulsive scent of her fur burning against the heater, until it was too late and she was permanently covered in brown spots.

I suddenly felt sympathy for everything in my room that I had buried, never to be seen again. Lost items I had blocked out for years made their way back into my consciousness: my favorite yellow tank top, the picture of my mom and me on that boat in Jamaica, my baseball card collection.

I had an urge to dive under my bed and uncover everything lurking in the murky depths of dust, and to climb up into the highest corners of my closet and rescue items that had been mingling with the spiders. The innocent piles were growing higher and higher until they were looming monsters before my eyes. They were threatening to swallow me whole. I had to get rid of them. And so I started to clean.

In a box buried under old textbooks, I found a letter that my Poppy had written me at camp. I hadn't thought of him since his funeral. I suddenly remembered the thrill of running naked through cold sprinklers with my cousins, the spicy smell of barbecue mixing with the salty air at his beach house, and the distinct feel of his soft sweater rubbing warmly against my cheek each time he enveloped me in a hug. I remembered my dad rocking me to sleep the night Poppy died, and how the tears wouldn't stop.

I sat with his picture, blocking out the rest of the mess around me. I was in the middle of a storm, but I sat there and studied him until I had memorized every line in his face. Tears began to roll down my cheeks again, and the relief was like the sound of heavy rain pounding on a roof at the end of a drought.

In the drawer next to my bed, I found a friendship bracelet my childhood best friend, Aubrey, had given to me before she moved to California. I traced the green and purple pattern with my thumb, realizing that I hadn't spoken to her in years. The next day I called her, and we talked all night, laughing about memories like dressing up as the Spice Girls for Halloween. She reminded me of the time we built a family of snowmen in my backyard and had a funeral for them when they'd melted. I had lost so many precious childhood memories over time, letting them slip away into the tide like grains of sand. It was the kind of conversation you never want to end because for each moment we talked, it felt like a bucket collecting droplets of water from a leak.

Under my bed I even found that picture of my mom and me in Jamaica. I had forgotten how turquoise the water had looked from our ship, but what really caught my attention, though, was my image. I had buck teeth, short hair, and pimples covering my face. I stared at that girl, barely able to recognize this person who had drowned in the mess of my room so many years before. I decided to completely re­organize and revamp my room so that all the books, belts, and baskets were in their right place. It was like finding the missing pieces of the puzzle.

The finishing touch was framing that photo and hanging it high up on my wall. After all, it was me I had been searching for.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category. This piece won the May 2009 Teen Ink Nonfiction Contest.

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Isibeal This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 18, 2013 at 9:45 pm
I love this piece. It's amazing, and exactly what I need to do. Thank you for writing this; it means more than you think!:)
paigeypoo said...
Jun. 16, 2013 at 5:08 pm
This was an amazing piece. The words are so discriptive that I felt I was in the room with you. Fantastic.
Kamana said...
May 30, 2013 at 6:49 pm
This truely is amazing, almost like picking yourself up and putting your life back together again which is kind of where I am right now. This was something that I really needed to hear, thank you.
rosie123456g said...
May 10, 2013 at 8:05 am
I am writing a memoir in my class and it really inspired me to keep writing and it gave me a lot of ideas  THANKS
Laur01 said...
Apr. 29, 2013 at 1:54 pm
Love it! This memoir is so well written!
elisha24 said...
Mar. 26, 2013 at 7:32 pm
Love this memoir. I read it while sitting in my bed and it has given me the sudden urge to see what lays within the cluttered shelves.
Meghan11 said...
Jan. 23, 2013 at 10:06 am
love it! my teacher read it to us, and its one of my favourite :)
KristinC This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 7, 2013 at 9:25 pm
I love the imagery, and your unique word choice!  Such colorful verbs!  :)
rilesandpiles said...
Oct. 30, 2012 at 8:45 am
Wow great memoir.  Very well written.  I love the quirky similes you put in, they bring a light tone to the essay, but are also fitting in the story as a whole.  Keep writing!
GGLovesLife said...
Oct. 11, 2012 at 6:48 pm
Wow, beautiful article. I love TeenInk. :)
Andrew121957 said...
Sept. 26, 2012 at 6:37 pm
Loves it :)
Angelina G. said...
Sept. 7, 2012 at 11:30 am
Your story reminds me of of my room except for all of my stuff isn't spread out. I hid everything in boxes. I suppose I have over 20 boxes, varying in sizes, hiding things from all the way back in 2004 to now. Your story makes me want look through them. Thanks.
Juanxx9 replied...
Feb. 5, 2014 at 1:17 pm
Cool story
ABazza said...
Aug. 28, 2012 at 5:49 am
this is a really cool style of writing and the message was great and relateable 
Why_Do_We_Fall This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 12, 2012 at 1:18 pm
WOW!! This is so good. At first I thought it was just going to be about cleaning a room, but in the end it was more about cleaning oneself out of all the junk that's piled up inside.  This is something I can totally relate to!! GREATWORK!
Black_Rose_Princess said...
Jun. 15, 2012 at 1:48 pm
this is something that I think everyone can relate to; wonderfully written!
dragonfly95 said...
Apr. 1, 2012 at 11:16 am
this is simply written but so powerful it brings tears to my eyes. great job! check out my work please and thank you!
team_haymitch This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 27, 2012 at 9:09 pm
de ja vu :)
Tori W. said...
Mar. 27, 2012 at 1:53 pm
I love this! I clean my room yearly. (kind of bad) And each time I open a box where I keep my lost things. And each year I am once again engulfed in the memories. I really loved this. Brilliant Brilliant writing!!!
kate12345me said...
Feb. 17, 2012 at 8:21 pm
This was so good! I once wrote something exactly like this for school - it was about a girl who's searching for something but doesn't know what, then realises she's been searching for herself! Great work, please please please check out my work!
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