If you were to walk into my bedroom, you’d first have to make a decision. The room has two entrances, one from the hallway and the other through the bathroom. It is in the shape of a rectangle, aside from my wardrobe that juts into the shape. If you walk in through the hallway entrance my sliding door that I never use will be opposite you. My desk and bookcase is to the right of you and my bed is on the left wall. The bathroom entrance is to the right and my wardrobe is on the right wall.
If my room was clean, you’d be able to see a big patch of carpet in the middle of my room. Unfortunately, it seldom is. My book case is one of variety. Not only does it host books I haven’t read and never will, but various trinkets from my time as a young-in. My desk, which has a small landing at the end of it, is where my computer sits, along with my drawing tablet. My jar of markers, and container of random pens and pencils lay on the landing.
My bed is in the closest left corner, and my bedside table is beside it, surprisingly. My broken lamp and hand sanitizers are the only things on it. I used to have a digital clock, but I banished it, for the light was annoying to me. My bed is a mixture of too big blankets that often move around in the night, causing me displeasure. My top blanket has a cover that was originally a curtain, and has pink stylized drawings of various famous locations.
- My handing plant, my twinkle lights
- Hanging off, pinned to, placed on
- Grey, pink, tan
- Mostly simplistic, minimalist
- The flower stickers on my wall I don’t like
- My dog, usually lying on my bed
- Smells gross and warm if I keep my heater on
- My leather-ish desk chair, fluffy carpet
- My computer’s fan turning on randomly, banging noises from the garage
The room has two entrances, either allowing you to see a different angle of the room. It is stuck in between the bathroom and hallway, with the only way of escape the sliding door. Seldom read books line the wall, and trinkets lay unused and untouched on the bookshelf, the previous year’s awards, framed, lay on top.
Clothes remain strewn on the floor, everyday supposed to be the day I finally clean them up. They hide the dark carpet as if covering up a lie. The desk stands tall, and taller with the landing. It hold one of my most important possessions, my new computer.