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Ghost Of Yourself
Nov. 2nd, 2009 08:47 pmI guess... it's something everyone does at some point in their life. Isn't it? Deals with their childhood bedroom? Dismantles it? Removes it from physical existence?
In my head, my bedroom is still there, exactly the way it was... I can see it all so clearly, I can shut my eyes and I'm nine again, sitting in the corner behind a piece of twine tied between my shelves and my desk drawer and a sign hanging from it saying "keep out." I know what's in my closet, in my desk drawers, under my bed... one day I was hit with a fit of unsentimentality and dumped out everything in my desk drawers and put it all in the garbage and dragged the can out to the curb - all the drawings, all the stories, all the school papers and worksheets and everything else in there - gone. That wasn't my life anymore and I wanted it gone. Physically - it's all gone. That room has a different carpet now, different walls and different curtains, and the furniture that was mine growing up is in my younger sister's apartment in her guest room, and not one thing is the same as the room that still exists in my head.
( What a day )
I still feel bad about yesterday. And I feel bad for him, period. He's been talking about getting out of here for pretty much as long as I've been here. And he's right. This place sucks you in.
In my head, my bedroom is still there, exactly the way it was... I can see it all so clearly, I can shut my eyes and I'm nine again, sitting in the corner behind a piece of twine tied between my shelves and my desk drawer and a sign hanging from it saying "keep out." I know what's in my closet, in my desk drawers, under my bed... one day I was hit with a fit of unsentimentality and dumped out everything in my desk drawers and put it all in the garbage and dragged the can out to the curb - all the drawings, all the stories, all the school papers and worksheets and everything else in there - gone. That wasn't my life anymore and I wanted it gone. Physically - it's all gone. That room has a different carpet now, different walls and different curtains, and the furniture that was mine growing up is in my younger sister's apartment in her guest room, and not one thing is the same as the room that still exists in my head.
( What a day )
I still feel bad about yesterday. And I feel bad for him, period. He's been talking about getting out of here for pretty much as long as I've been here. And he's right. This place sucks you in.
