Everyone has that “one place” that they go to and unwind from the outside world. For me it’s the softly, blue painted room at the end of the white hall of my brick house.
Once the cold metal doorknob from the outside is twisted and the door is open, the warm, beige carpet softly cushions in between my toes. The sunlight creeps in through the blinds and gives the room more of a lively feeling. A mixed smell of vanilla and sweet pea scented lotions and perfume bottles fill the air.

The room is a bit crammed with furniture giving off a comfy feeling in some areas but openly spaced in others. Lying on my warm, supporting bed, in the center of my room makes my eyelids heavier and heavier. My mind usually wanders about anything to release the stress of my day, as I lay by myself. The silence that rings through the room is relaxing. Occasionally, if I listen hard enough I could hear the hums of computer, or if I paid enough attention I could see the quick red light that flashes every five minutes on the smoke detector.

The feeling of being alone in the area I call mine, lets me feel like I don’t have to take into account anybody else’s actions, words, or thoughts expect for my own. I can just concentrate on myself without any possible interruptions to an extent. Time alone makes really appreciate my warm, comforting room.