In a way that's different from who we are.I don't usually blog two days in a row, but I can't help this feeling inside of me.
I was looking at my room, and was comparing it to the rest of the house. It was different. It has an attitude that differs from all the rustic and imperial vibes from the rosewood. It has a warmth and somehow a gloom that surpasses all bounds of rationality. I understand why it's my room. It's because it's a reflection of me.
The bed, sticking out at such a weird angle creating so much inconvenience for itself, almost seems to symbolise my constant desire to be different from the norm - to be original. Its sheets so neatly folded and tucked away in a corner, as if to convince the world of it's pristine perfection when only it knows it is only a cover for what is lying beneath.
I could go on and on about how so many things in my room are a true reflection of me (yes, even the mirror. get the joke?), but i won't. I won't let you into me because you don't deserve to.
Perhaps this is the reason why we don't want others to see out rooms. We don't want others to see our flaws, our pet-peeves, our vulnerabilities and our habits. That is why we have a door - so that we can shut out whoever we don't want to let in. In our own rooms, we feel that we can be free to do whatever we want. It gives us security.
But what happens when you don't feel safe even within the confines of yourself?
! dug deep in the sand