Welcome, to my room…

What on earth is going on? Coming back from school, I would love to just lie down and take a nice long nap, but noooo… Things are everywhere, just things, that I don’t even knew that I had. This is so frustrating. My room is my one and only domain where I carry out various leisure activities such as studying, watching films and television, listen to music, talk on the phone, surf the internet, etc. That is the exact reason, I am so sick of it; I spend so much time in my room that it becomes suffocating. One of the only things I like about my room is that it is painted all yellow, which is quite nice, because it makes my room look visually bigger, but other than that – psh…

My school things are just all over the place, I wonder, how am I even able to find something amongst all that mess. On weekends, I clean, not thoroughly, but I do clean some of this mess.

BUT, it is my personal shelter and basically a second home. It is one of the only places where I can think and be myself. Outside of those walls are people, like my parents and friends, who place ideas in my head and make personal decisions for me.  In a space so small, it gives me a sense of security and secrecy. It is a place where no one would hear what I think about others and how I view the world.

And I am thankful.

 

From the point of view of a friend.

If this room should be the heart of this home, then this house is in serious trouble, she thought, as she turned into a small cramped room. The walls were light yellow, like the insides of a sour lemon and the mossy green carpet reminded her of an atrocious pea soup that she used to hate so much.

There is an old proverb which states “When you are a child, your room is the world to you.” I believe this should be a very true statement and should apply to most children. In a room of his or her own a person can become whatever he or she likes and make their surroundings fit that idea or “theme” if you will. But, this room, this room has neither emotion nor a thorough “theme”. Actually this place looks more like a bomb hole: every schoolbook and – sheet is scattered around the room with disrespect and contempt.

She begins to randomly open some drawers, cupboards and exploring their content. She starts to find some pictures: mostly people she doesn’t know, but these pictures seem to be full of life and good memories. The more she mauls in the room, the more warmth and affection she sees around her. Everything is in its rightful place and this room begins to look a lot more homely and loved.

This seemingly lifeless room with its small files is a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory can’t match.

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