That's what I feel like. The first day back was the hardest, without a doubt. I'm not ashamed to admit that I shed more than a tear for my emptied out room, for the fact that I had survived (just barely) my first year of college. For the roommate that became one of my closest friends. For the realization that my ticket back home was one-way. Two days later, I'm sitting comfortably on my bed, typing my thoughts away, just as I would in my dorm room.
A room is something you make your own.
That's where you wake up in the morning, that's where you close your eyes at night. It's your safe haven. You put things on the walls - your scent is everywhere. All around, there's evidence of you. There's a crumpled bedsheet, a discarded sock. I guess that why it killed me to see my dorm room bare. I had a flashback of when I first set eyes on it. I'd scoffed at it - small, cold, different, uncomfortable. In a year, it had become my home.
- Ai
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