 | | 2012-10-03 15:33
From blog respect the shoes
There's an Elephant in My Room
I remember when I was little and living with my parents, my room was my world. Especially during those angsty teeny bop years, time spent at home meant being with myself doing my own thing in my room. I had awful blue-green shag carpet and mis-matched furniture, but it was a place where only I knew exactly what was in it and where I could do (and for the most part, act) how I wanted. Loads of diary writing, YA reading, emo sketching and later year-NKOTB worship happened in that room.
College meant roommates and shared spaces, and granted everyone seemed very open with their stuff and areas, but it was almost mandatory to make yourself known in your space. I hung...
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