My Room is a Warzone

Hey you guys. It's finally the weekend and I could cry I'm so relieved. I officially have no obligations to anyone for the next two days.

So tonight, I feel like talking about my room. It's not actually a war zone, like the title states, unless you count the fact that it's usually so messy that you can't see the floor. No. My room is perfect. I have stuff on all of my walls, and it's so beautiful and colorful. I hate the cold and the temperature in here is always a few degrees warmer than the rest of the house too. At this exact moment, I'm snuggled under the covers on my bed, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the most comfortable place on earth. If I could survive here, I wouldn't ever move.

In all honestly, this room is my happy place. It's were I go to be entirely at peace. I can hide around up here and relish the joy of being absolutely alone. This feeling is like being surrounded by a field of silence where there's no movement and I can let my bones melt into the ground. Sometimes I just need to let myself disappear for a little bit, and this space gives me something to come home to when the rest of the world doesn't do anything but burn into little pieces.

Anyway, I'm almost falling asleep over the keyboard so I'm going to sign off. Thanks for reading guys.

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