My room is my safe space. In many ways, I believe my childhood bedroom to be a physical manifestation of my mind and my personality. This may sound far fetched, however, as I have grown and matured through the years, so has my room. From my childhood through the present, my room has been filled with a profusion of colors. There is no particular theme or common design across my room. It is composed entirely of random bursts of creativity. I find comfort in the chaos, and, despite the randomness of it all, there exists a strange sense of familiarity and relaxation that comes with residing in this space.

It is for this reason that I find my room to be such a source of comfort for me. After a long day at school, I can simply walk into my room and feel my stress levels reducing tenfold. It is like a small bubble of tranquility. I like to think that even if I am holding my breath everywhere else, in my room I can finally breathe. There exist no limits for my artistic bursts of motivation–I simply pick up a pen and begin to draw, write, or sketch. I feel free to do so without any external eyes watching me with their judgment. Moreover, I dislike when other people are in my room, my family included. I feel that the serenity of my space is rudely disrupted whenever others enter it. My room is supposed to be a shelter from the outside world, for me to relax and be productive. When I add others into that shelter, the ambiance becomes disrupted entirely. 

I usually like to keep my bedroom door locked. The outside world can be a raging ocean of distraction. My bedroom door is like a dam. It allows a small trickle of water into my room, but never enough to flood it entirely. My room is where I can work out my problems, and complete my tasks without the impending feeling of stress that comes with acknowledging my external surroundings. My locked bedroom door is not a symbol of hatred for the stressors that surround me. Rather, it is more like a filter that reduces distraction and allows me to focus on the important things. It is only an added bonus that a closed door serves to create a noise barrier as well, which enables me to complete my tasks all the more productively. 

Whenever I find myself ridden with boredom, I always begin to create new trinkets and decorations to add to my room. As one grows older, they gain memories, thoughts, and experiences. Their brain gains complexity and fullness. I believe my room has followed this pattern as well. My room used to be generic and empty. When I first moved into my house, my room had traces of Disney princesses and splashes of the color pink, but it seemed like a default room that any five year old would have. It did not feel like me, much less a representation of my thoughts. The transformation of my bedroom began slowly, with stickers and drawings taped to the walls. Eventually, I began to claim the space as my own and rearrange it to my liking. 

Throughout my life, I have always been hopping from hobby to hobby. I grow fascinated with new things very quickly, and I grow a desire to learn everything there is to know about them. My room is a very obvious byproduct of this. Subtle references to shows I’ve watched are scattered throughout every corner of my bedroom, and quiet traces of hobbies that once held my attention are present as well. Each hobby, interest, phase, or memory I have had has served to shape me as a person. Regardless, of how subtle that change may be. I believe each decoration, or poster, regardless of how small or seemingly insignificant, serves to form the personality of my room as well. 

To almost every teenage girl, her room is her sanctuary, and the place where she can most comfortably reside. For me especially, my room is the safe space where I can express my creativity and focus productively. In a lot of ways, my room is me. It represents my personality, my interests, and the different ways in which I have grown throughout the years. My room is more than just the place where I sleep, it is a tiny universe that exists only for me.