When things were tough for me, or not going the way they should have I would always go right to my room and think about why everything was happening to me. I could scream and punch at my walls all day and not hear how wrong that was or how they don't want to hear what I have to say. The inside of those four walls were made for me and they made me feel like never leaving would be the best thing for me.
The scent of the vanilla candles that were always burning made it feel like all my problems were gone away. They made the room feel like life is experiencing more problems then the little I have, and I could go and tackle it like a football if I wanted to. The smell fulfilled my mind with things that I know I make a big difference in.
My room was quiet as the books are on a library shelf. Being that quiet made me understand that all people need a little quiet time to themselves. I could actually sit and have conversations with my parents or my counselor without being distracted. I would sometimes think if walls could talk there would be alot of secrets told.
It would make me feel relaxed. Make me feel wanted and I depended on it to let me know that it was always there for me whwenever I needed it. It helped me think things out and learn to handle situations differently in a better manner. It gave me time to myself to grow on my own and learn from my own mistakes.
I didn't have to worry about interruptions because everyone knew that my room was my own little home inside a bigger home. With no interruptions I could hear things I've never heard before or heard things I wish were there.
Most people can't taste their room, but in this room I tasted a taste that was even so akward for me. I tasted air. Although air does not have a taste, it does when a person is spending so much time alone in
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