I need to remind myself to patient. My anger will go from a maximum 100 pissed off to a low 5 mildly uncomfortable…..
And it’s thanks to my room.
My room is a mixture of One Direction posters, bright colored bras on the floor accompanied by semester text books I’ve rented from Amazon.
And in the midst of this mess my favorite lip gloss tends to disappear along with my make up pomegranate face wipes….
My bed is the most comfortable thing in the world, that is if you’re not sharing it. Nonetheless, that is not the case in my life.
On my bed you will find a fat plush giraffe the size of a well fed three year old child, a Japanese stuffed animal cat, a moose, two build-a-bears, a stuffed animal owl/pillow and oh yeah a 5ft 5, 13 year old girl.
That is the problem I am facing today.
My room sounds like a 13 year old’s cave in which she invites her other 13 year old humans who come and perform rituals on Zayn Malik’s face.
All I’m saying here is that I am extremely thankful I have a room to call my own…kind of, and that I have a roof over my head.
But sharing my room, and my bed with my 13 year old sister has become problematic, I’m not sure how much longer I can take another punch in the face by my sleeping sister, or another song by 5 Seconds of Summer….
I really wish I had a place of my own.