my room
my mom always made sure the sheets were freshly cleaned and our beds were made when we got home. we had always lived in apartments, but when she got remarried we got a real house and a second parent who at least tried to care.
my room was my whole world. my cd collection took up its own bookcase. posters and keepsakes others might call trash covered every inch of the wall above my desk.
i didn’t have many friends and i spent most of my time the way i still do, playing video games and working on music. my mom bought me a tv so big it had to sit on a coffee table, and, when we no longer used it as a family, let me move the bright blue nintendo wii from our living room to my room so that i could play animal crossing and twilight princess in solitude.
this was the room i taught myself to play guitar in. it was the room where i spent hours sitting in front of the mirror practicing my eyeliner. it was the room my best friend slept over in when my high school sweetheart dumped me.
i had a big beautiful window looking over our front yard; my mom had draped dark green curtains above it. i hated the color but i never got around to changing them. i couldn’t wait to leave until suddenly the choice wasn’t mine anymore.
my room always smelled like whatever bath and body works body spray my mom decided she didn’t want anymore. it never smelled like cigarettes or mold. and i always had clean sheets to slip into.