Home is usually only a concept we understand when its gone. For some its a week at camp and others its destroyed. Home can be many things. It can be your family or your house or even your room. My home was my room. 
    By nature I am an introvert and not much of an outsider. The majority of my time was spent playing video games or guitar in my room. When I close my eyes I can still remember the small dents I made that no one would know. On my door there were markings of my height every year. There was also a small hole that I made when I was younger. I threw a baseball at my door because I was angry once and the hole remained ever since. Since my door was sort of hollow I would stick things in the little hole which would end up being lost forever. 
     The walls were a midnight blue and were usually bare. Most people liked to hang posters or pictures but I never really went through that phase. Instead I had a shelf which I crafted into an epic battle scene. Over the years I had collected figurines and even build a few. I hadn’t used the shelf before so I set aside a day and crafted this battle scene with figurines from various anime’s and television shows. This shelf hung above my bed.
    Most of my time was spent on my bed. I would do everything there. I would eat, sleep, play video games, guitar, homework, ect. It was my command station. There were somedays I wouldn’t even leave my bed except to go to the bathroom and to get food. My favorite thing to do on my bed was write. There were so many nights that I would stay up and write. I filled up 4 notebooks in a couple years after I started writing. 
    Underneath the clothes strewn about my room was an ugly tan carpet. I’ve spilt almost every kind of drink you can think on it. Some of my furniture had never moved so there were permanent indents in the carpet that would never come out.
    My dresser was another battlefield except of another kind. My grandma, every year, would buy for all the kids in the family little holy statues of various saints and Mary. She is an incredibly religious old woman and she made sure to get everything blessed. It’s cute and kind of scary at the same time. My dresser was filled with Christian trinkets and prayer cards.     
    I had a desk that ended up being used for a number of things. I would use it mostly as a workstation for my guitars. Anytime I needed to repair something or just tear something apart I would do it on my desk. When it wasn’t a workstation it usually had random papers scattered on it or old texts books.  I’m sure that most of it was homework that I never did. 
     It wasn’t until I moved that I really appreciated that feeling. Once I moved it was gone. For a while it was tough getting used to a new room in a new house. That comfort I had was gone, like being thrown into the middle of a desert and trying to make your way to civilization. In some ways it was good for me. Being an introvert, if I never had to leave I probably wouldn’t have. It forced me to go outside and do things and meet people. I used to have trouble sleeping other places and usually needed my bed to fall asleep but now I can pass out anywhere. I miss my old room though. I think about what it is like now. Maybe someone is making it their home.

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