Myself Within a Room

November 21, 2017
By Anonymous

One step into my memory filled space and the aroma of wet grass and teenage girl sweat floods your nostrils. A scent that makes one cringe. The room isn’t anything big, but just enough room for myself to feel comfortable. Right in front of your eyes lies a boxspring and mattress on the floor. It’s a queen sized bed with grey and white chevron sheets, there are clothes piled on top of the majority of the bed. There’s a small spot on the bed with no clothes, just big enough for a teenage girl to curl up and sleep. To the left of the bed is a wall covered in stripes of black and white; they were meant for a little girl who once loved zebras. Now it just makes one's eyes hurt because of the overwhelming pattern.

Above the bed, there are pictures lined up meant to look artsy but in reality, it is too much color in one spot. The window to the right of the bed is outlined in Christmas lights. The room is dim and the lights don’t help much. On top of the window frame, a row of little figurines is displayed. They have nothing in common, but they bring smiles. There are a few characters from the once so popular movie “Shrek”, a wind-up penguin, two toy dinosaurs, and an angel to watch over the room at night.

The little yellow table just below the window is cluttered as always, filled with unnecessary miscellaneous objects. The amount of water bottles on this rolling table is too many for a person to count on their fingers. A fan sits on the table, but it’s becoming too cold at night to be put to use. On the bottom shelf of this table, there are various books sprawled across, most likely collecting dust. Underneath the table there multiple pairs of running shoes, each pair has seen hundreds of miles within their use.

Directly next to this window with the little yellow table below there’s a full-length mirror. One of those cheap and flimsy Walmart ones. There are two paper flowers taped to the top to try and make it look not so cheap. Just above the mirror is a wooden picture that reads, “life is good” which is more often untrue.

The next wall holds two closets, the types that have folding doors. There’s a smaller one, then a nook in between the two that contains a window which leads out to my roof. I’ve spent many of my sleepless nights in thought out there. Following that along the wall, another closet like the first but this one is bigger.The first one contains what clothes aren’t scattered around the room. Between the two closets, the nook that holds the window contains a bench with a small television on top. Nothing fancy, it’s really only used to fill ears with music. In this nook, and around the window includes medals, ribbons, numbers, and tags from nearly every track and cross country race I’ve run in. Some of the numbers have grown to the ceiling because apparently, three years of collecting has grown too much. Above the nook hangs a sign saying, “wild and free”, decorated a bit too girly for my taste. The “free” part of this saying though I don’t feel so much these days.

Now comes the next closet. Within hangs a bookshelf screwed to the wall because I complained it wobbled too much. There are more magazines than books, but the shelf is put to use. Underneath there are many pairs of shoes. The black ones outnumber the rest, but the white converse have seen the most adventures. Next to the shelf sits a dusty keyboard. It’s most likely saddened from not being played often enough. Both of these closets are chalkboards but haven’t been drawn on for quite some time. The walls behind are white, a poor attempt to balance out the hideous zebra stripes.

In the corner hanging from the ceiling is a little birdhouse messily painted with nail polish. In this corner there’s also a ukulele that holds many songs and chords that it once played, at one point it brought me so much joy. Now it misses the times that it was played non-stop. Next to the ukulele is my camera that’s kept within its case. My camera brings me so much fear and excitement all at once. I wish I could appreciate it more.

Against the last wall is a huge six drawer dresser, the kind with a huge mirror on the top. Pictures of friends and family are taped around the edge. On top, the dresser is cluttered with a collection of makeup and hair products. On the wall next to the dresser is a hook used for my keys and wallet. There’s a chair in front of my dresser. It’s the type that a director uses, with the cloth back and seat. There’s a towel on the seat because I got this chair from the side of the road and haven’t gotten around to cleaning it. The last thing along this wall is the door, the top two corners hold plastic yellow stars that light up. They were meant to look artsy but just look tacky instead. On the hooks on the door hangs a towel and some bags. There’s a rolling suitcase always by the door. This suitcase is there as a failed attempt to keep the broken door shut from inside my room.

In the middle of the ceiling hangs a chandelier that has many colorful transparent beads that decorate it. Though it’s not very bright, or amazing to look at, I appreciate the shadows that it glows onto the ceiling. In the corner that contains my bed, on the ceiling I have many of my drawings taped to the ceiling. They’re nice to look at on the nights that sleeping doesn’t come easy.

The old wooden floor in my room is stained from paint falling to the floor as I painted my walls. It angered me when the white paint kept dripping. The white scattered blotches irritate me now but I’ve gotten used to it.  There’s always something that gets stuck to your feet as you walk through my room and there are also a few little holes filled in with corks.

Though my room is nothing special, it feels safe to me. It feels warm and welcoming. My room protects me and calms me. I appreciate all that it has done for me. I spend most my time dreaming of being away, but I know I will miss this unspecial bedroom.  I wish I could thank my room for bringing me peace in all my times of need.

The author's comments:

This is a description of my room from my own perspective. My room is nothing special, but I wouldn't ask for anything else.

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