A Place Called my own

Quiet…dead, cold silence, but air as warm and clear as can be. Me and only me surrounded by four walls of vivid color. Blue for the peace I feel within me. Purple for the hard, deep background that is potrayed by my existence, and lastly pink for the confusion I fell day by day in asserting to the world that I am different. Many pictures and mirrors to constantly that this room is my space. A place for me and only me. Yet not everything is for me or about me. Those four walls filled with decorations, pictures, and items that send a constant reminder of a well remembered past though wishfully forgotten. A bear; pale pink in color to pay tribute to a great life once lived by my loved grandmother. A huge queen sized for me and only me. Lots of space. A bed covered in blue sheets like an ocean of blue. A sea traveled by one lonely passenger that is I. Underneath this sea of blue three large bins to hold all the contents of my life. These storage containers are to me as a treasure chest to a pirate. One thing that stands out; a Mickey Mouse teddy bear with a secret, private letter in it’s pocket. Sort of a hideaway for private thoughts. All the time I reside on a sea that I travel upon in a world vivid, and detailed. In the center of all the greatness resides a large rectangular rug consisting of various shades of purple. Standing out in all the confusion of color a white door leading to an unknown abyss often called my closet. An array of many colored clothing types and rows of shows in no particular significant order. A shelf residing in it’s upper level to hold jeans and sweaters all arranged neat and orderly. One dresser and one nightstand. The dresser covered in lotions, perfumes, and other wonderfully scented items and the mirror connected to it containing pictures of my best friends, friends, and associates. My nightstand containing a large vase filled with flowers and a tray to hold jewelry.