chapter two

this was my bedroom.

our renters painted it white.

as i walked down the hall toward the open door, i thought "i don't even recognize this room. this isn't really even my room anymore."

but then, i walked in, and the smell...

the smell.

it smells the same. after a year of me being gone, and a stranger inhabiting my space, my room still smells the same.

it's like the 9 years of life that i spent in that room have made their place there. the memories have seeped into the walls, settled themselves into the corners.

it smells a little like sun-warmed carpet, clean sheets, and notebook paper.

you'd think that i'd spend my time dwelling on the big things that happened in that room. the tears and the sex and the drugs.

but the first thing i thought of was sitting on the edge of my bed and facing my window, shutters open, window cracked, feeling the mixed sensation of the warm sun streaming through the glass and the cool breeze sneaking through the screen. not feeling any particular emotion or thinking any particular thought or looking in any particular direction. just sitting, and being.

and then i thought of laying of the floor, belly down, pen in mouth, reading my american history book.

and then i thought of standing around with my friends, and molly acting like a political adviser as my dog stood at the window, looking very presidential indeed.

and then i thought of early mornings styling my hair, and late nights jumping on my bed to the beat of "mmmbop" and the glow of my lava lamp while drifting off to sleep.

the time that i spent in my room was probably the most significant time in my life. because it was my in-between time, my alone time. the time where i was just completely myself, because no one was watching me. that's where i got ready, wound-down, cried, laughed, wrote, and just was. felt the breeze and the sun and left myself completely in the moment because i didn't have anything to think about or do.

those are the memories i have in my room.

and as i left the house, i realized that... i wasn't as sad as i thought i would be. driving away from the place that knew me best, knowing i would never go there again.

and the fact that i wasn't sad made me sad. i knew that i was moving on from a significant time in my life.

that's always hard, you know?