That Cozy Room…

Sometimes is sad to see a part of your life be taken apart like that. It just feels melancholic somehow to look back at all the things you went through in your life when you thought you put them away forever. After all…when you’ve slept in the same place for most of your life…you’re bound to have more than your fair share of memories in it.

How could anyone not?

I remember the times I took refuge from the world outside in this cozy room. Most of the time anyway…it would be my safe haven from my own parents anyway whose misgivings were that of not giving me refuge from the world outside. I wonder then as I do now, if an apartment of my own would be any different.

I’ll find out soon enough.

I remember when I skipped school one day with my friends and my dad came back for a while. Where we all rushed up and hid in my room. I remember the blood pounding away in my brain as I feared my father would find out we were home. Those were the good ol days of Donita on Channel [V] and Buffy reruns at the same time.

Days that will never be forgotten.

I remember the long nights trying to finish off special projects in this room. I remember the paper mache cigarette, the origami swans, the airplane models, the explosives and fireworks, that working PC and the scores of cardboard models. All done right here. The room is littered with the scars of it. Glue residue, blade scratches, bits of paper, styrofoam, metal wires, solder bits and the many many empty boxes that are stuffed into every corner of my room.

It’s all there.

I remember the many secret places in the room. Refuge as it is. Mother’s can be incredibly hard to keep from snooping around. Every teenager has their secrets no matter the time or flavor. Oh I have mine in this room. I remember a nice place where all my personal porn can be kept. I remember another place where all the bits of unused chemicals and not-so-legal stuff can be well hid. I remember a time even Ben asked me to stash his little ciggies so Mrs Wong won’t find out about his dear son’s habits. Oh this room holds its secrets alright.

Like user like room.

I remember the time when I first made love on this bed. This queen sized bed. I remember you staying over those 2 nights. Those nights that meant so much to us. How we managed to get you unnoticed into my room and out of it without my parents having the slightest clue. How we slept in each other’s arms…without worry…without laying in bed awake. I remember that gentle snore, that warm naked body. I remember how much the room felt complete. To be in your arms. To hold you there.

How much it truly felt like home.

Now…I’m packing all the memories away. I’m going to another place. It will never be the same as this room. It will never have the memories of the past. But…it will be my refuge for the time being. It will have it’s own future memories. It will have a story of its own. It will have a life of its own.

In the end, it doesn’t matter where we live or how long we live in it. It matters that we remember the times when we lived, we remember what we lived and why we lived. In the end…the only room we will ever have memories in…is the one called the world.

In a little place called reality.

Now what am I going to do with my porn?

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