i grew up and slept here my entire life. i envied my friends who lived in a dorm or moved out of their parents' place and dreaded coming back to my room alone after a day out. growing up i hated my room, viewed it as an inescapable place of stagnation, and wanted to leave every second. my relationship with my room changed after slowly decorating it with love: postcards, gifted trinkets, books, framed collages. my room became more special when i frivolously treated it with perfume, a flip clock with a loud motor, an old poster of a British trip-hop group, chairs i really like that remind me of the on-campus library chairs from facebook marketplace. every day i'm reminded my childhood room is my childhood room when i wake up to an exposed closet with a half wooden slide door installed from my parents' bedroom downstairs. my desk created scuff marks on the wall that reveal its former light blue paint. my mom always barges in without a knock, sometimes with a small bowl of fruit. i love this room
