Bedrooms are a place to express yourself. Your own space that you can use to differentiate from the family house. My Mom and Dad's room matches the house. The floor is well kept, the walls dark blue like the ocean, and the walls have wedding photos. Abby, the oldest, shares a room. It’s well kept on her side but when she home from college it’s a messy lake of clothes. Katie’s room is light. The blinds open letting in as much as possible, the gray walls mostly plain with only five wall decorations. Sophie has the cleanest room. Her bed is always made, her desk is always tidy, her floors are always spotless. Jane, the youngest, shares with Abby. Her side is clean and dirty at the same time, her bed is never made, the desk is somewhat tidy, and the floors are kind of clean, clothes and other junk shoved out of the way just enough to look clean.

My room is different, very different, astronomically different. My room, like me, is the odd one out in the family. While my sisters have almost nothing on their walls, Mine are covered all over the place. They have so much they can barely hold any more. I have 93 things ranging from bookshelves, to tapestries, to posters, to playbills, to everything. My desk is a wild whirlwind of nick knacks and do-dads. My windowsill has families of funko-pops and rows of rubber ducks. The bed had mountains of stuffed animals and layers of blankets that wrap me up in a warm hug late at night. My floor is hidden under a mountain of clothes, one of my corners is blocked with a tornado of art supplies. My room is loud and bright and chaotic. That's how I like it. It’s a hobbit hole that I can escape to to feel at home in my own house.