A bedroom; A safehouse.

A bedroom, to me, is like a safehouse. It is a visual representation of a person, really. You can tell if someone is sloppy or anal by the clothes on the floor (or in my case, not even fully placed in the drawer. Oy, I'm so lazy. Good thing you can't see the floor..)You take a quick pass of the book shelf and see exactly what is inspiring the resident, what it is they are really filling their head with (a few of the contents of my shelves: a huge ACT Prep book, Go Ask Alice (I'm never doing drugs), The Hiding Place, two books with the Best of LIFE photographs, Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul: Tough Stuff, the 2010 school yearbook etcetcetc.) Your walls are your outer skin, what it is you want people to notice about you. Your rock band posters, plaques of your many many accomplishments, or your endless supply of photographs (yours truly). But what's in your desk drawers, under your dresser, and hidden in the back of your closet is who you are truly. They are filled with notes back and forth with a (n at the time) close friend, waaay old Cosmopolitan magazines, a gift that you find completely useless but just can't seem to part with it due to the giver. I love that what you keep, as well as what you keep hidden, are the window to who you are as a person and what exactly is important to you. We all have things we could never ever part with. We all have things that we know we may never ever see again, but we just can't throw it away because looking back on that moment, everything was perfect. Or everything was awful, and that is the physical reminder of your pain. And the physical reminder that life gets better. It's funny how little things, like a note, can bring up so much emotion. How it can pull on your heartstrings like a harp.

Everyone has something, someone, some moment. Everyone has something about themselves they hate, that is awful for them. A personality trait, a physical illness, a financial situation. Every single person has something that is holding them back, that is handicaping them from being ideal. Some people have it more prevelent than others, which isn't always a bad thing. Because we all find out these things about ourselves as we grow up. Sometimes our thing is buried so deep down that we really don't know what to do with it once we find it. We don't really know how to handle it or how to grow past it. But that's why everyone has someone. Someone that you admire, someone you've grown close to, someone we may even love. Everyone has that one person that will forever play a major part in our lives, no matter how little they are currently involved in it. Someone that when we look back, we always wish things turned out differently. Someone that when we look back, we smile because it was so amazing. Someone that influenced our moment. That moment that everyone has where they are forever changed. You find what you are called to do, you find who you are supposed to do it with, you find that you don't know what the fuck you are doing right now. A moment where you cry of joy or of pain. A moment where your life will change and you will always remember that feeling and who you were with when you found your thing.

A bedroom is our space to breathe, our place to show what we want and hide what we need to. We aren't forced to be around anyone we don't want to be (unless your kid sister is on the bunk below you; I've been there) or follow anyone's rules. Hell, you can stay awake all night and look out the window or count the dots on the ceiling. I guess I just feel at home in my bedroom. Because it's everything I love about myself.